The Ties That Bind
by BlueRiverSteel
Summary: Caught in the schemes of conniving demons, manipulative angels, and the meddling hand of fate; can the Winchesters maintain their humanity when every step they take leads them closer to the destiny Heaven and Hell decided for them long before they were born? Starts in Season 1, becomes an AU shortly thereafter. Sis-fic.
1. Prologue

**Nodus Fortis**

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the Winchesters, except Kate. Boo.

A/N: Okay, okay, so I'm a relatively new Supernatural fan. Netflix is my friend; I'm at the beginning of Season Seven right now (so if anything in this admittedly AU fic is blatantly wrong, I apologize), and am completely addicted to the Winchesters. I couldn't help but wonder what they'd have been like with a sister, and I've read a couple really good sis-fics on this site; so I thought I'd give it a shot. I'd like to do it justice, though, and make it enjoyable as well as readable. Please know these characters are as dear to me as they are to you, so I will treat them with the utmost respect and do my very best to tell the tale well.

And since you're here to read the story, not listen to me rant, here goes!

* * *

**Prologue**

* * *

"Dean!" a little voice hissed from across the room.

Four-year-old Dean Winchester said nothing, determined to behave and go right to sleep, like Mommy had said to. That didn't include whispering to his younger sister like he usually did. It was really hard, because he loved telling Katie about all the exciting things he did and learned every day, and she was the same way. Even though they were together all day, and most of the cool things they did were together, he never seemed to run out of things to tell her.

But she was clearly not as interested in obeying Mommy as he was, since she waited a moment and then called softly to him from her bed under the window:

"Deeeeee-an! Are you 'wake?"

Going to sleep was _hard_.

Dean squished his eyes closed. "No," he answered, and Katie giggled.

"Yes you are!"

"No I'm not," he whispered loudly. "Be quiet, before Mommy hears us!"

"But I'm not sleepy!" Katie said. "Can I come over there and lay with you?"

Dean sighed. Daddy always said Katie should sleep in her own bed when he found them together in the morning, but the boy really couldn't figure out why. He liked sleeping beside Katie, and she obviously liked it too, since she kept asking.

And Dean kept saying yes.

"Only if you promise to be quiet and let me sleep," he said back, and Katie jumped out of her bed with a tiny squeal. He felt her crawl in beside him a moment later, smashing his fingers with her elbow since it was dark.

"Ow, Katie!"

"Sorry!" she whispered, finding his hand beneath the covers and holding it between both of hers. She brought his sore fingers to her tiny lips and kissed them. "Sorry. Are you 'kay?"

Dean nodded, then remembering it was dark, whispered, "I'm okay, Katie. Now go to sleep."

Katie shifted closer to him, bumping her nose against his shoulder. "Kay Dean. Night!"

Dean smiled a little-Katie was warm and soft, and her steady breaths always made him feel good for some reason-and closed his eyes.

Suddenly going to sleep wasn't so hard.

* * *

Katie woke up from a happy dream to a not-happy sound. A lady was screaming down the hall, but it wasn't just any lady. Katie knew that voice.

It was _Mommy_.

Why would Mommy be screaming? Screams were only for when something really bad was happening, and Katie couldn't see anything wrong.

But something was _definitely_ wrong.

Confused and scared, Katie started to cry, shaking Dean as he woke slowly beside her.

"Dee," she sobbed, too scared to remember to say his name right. "Dee, Mommy's scared."

Her brother sat bolt upright as their father thundered down the hall just outside the closed door. Katie clung to his arm, her fingers oddly weak and her arm muscles shaking. Why couldn't she grip tight like normal? The shaky feeling scared her more, and she tried not to scream.

Dean was patting her hand. "It's okay, Katie. Don't cry. Stay here. I'll go see what's happening."

"No!" Katie nearly panicked. He couldn't leave her here alone! "Come wit' you." As if to prove her point, she jumped down off Dean's bed, stumbling a little as her knees gave out. They felt like water.

Why was she so _not_-strong?

Dean caught her before she fell onto her bottom, moving his hand down to grip hers as soon as she was steady. Katie swiped at her wet cheeks with her free hand while she followed Dean slowly to the door. There hadn't been any sound since Daddy ran by, and Katie wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

Just as Dean turned the doorknob, there was a loud whooshing noise from down the hall; and Katie was almost sure she heard Daddy cry, "Mary!" Mary was her Mommy-Daddy almost always sounded happy when he said Mommy's other name.

But Daddy didn't sound happy right now. He sounded scared too, and it made Katie hold Dean's hand tighter. Her older brother squeezed back, yanking the door open with all his might.

The two children ran into the hall, and Dean stopped cold beside Katie at what they saw. There was a flickering orange light and a roaring sound coming from the nursery across from Mommy and Daddy's room.

_Fire_.

Katie froze too, until she heard Sammy's tiny wail and realized he was _in the room with the fire._ "Sammy!" she shouted, and started forward.

She hadn't made it two steps before Daddy came running out, almost tripping on the rug. Dean shouted, "Daddy!" while Daddy shouted, "Katie!" Katie backed up quick-like, just as Daddy reached Dean and gave him the bundle of blankets that was their baby brother.

"Take your brother and sister outside as fast as you can; don't look back!" he ordered, then when Dean hesitated, he shouted, "_Now_, Dean, go!" in a voice Katie had never heard Daddy use before. It scared her some more.

This night was just scary. All the way scary.

But she turned and ran beside Dean, navigating the stairs carefully despite her fear, remembering Mommy's warnings about going too fast. She knew Dean held little Sammy in his arms, knew he couldn't go as fast down the stairs with the baby, knew the most important thing was to make sure her oldest brother didn't drop her youngest brother.

Dean made it to the bottom of the stairs safely, and they ran outside together. Katie ran all the way to the sidewalk before turning back to see that Dean had stopped just outside the porch with Sammy.

"Dee!" she screamed. _He was too close to the fire!_

But then Daddy was there, carrying both Dean and Sammy to her just as the nursery exploded, raining fire and debris down on the lawn where Dean had stood moments ago. The little girl cried when Daddy reached her, kneeling on the ground and putting his arms hard around both her and Dean, who still held baby Sammy.

The rest of that night was filled with flashing lights, sirens, murmurs from the neighbors; and through it all Katie sat on the hood of Daddy's 'mpala, trying to stop shaking as Dean's arm hugged her close to his side.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the Winchesters, except Kate. Boo.

* * *

Whispers. Soft, barely coherent...sinister.

_Sam._

_Sam, come to me. _

_I have plans for you, Sam. Things you never knew you could do. You can't escape your destiny, it will find you._

_Sam._

Flashes of light, confusing. Jess, the love of his short life, blonde hair splayed around her and blood on her midsection as she screamed silently. On the ceiling.

Fire.

Heat and agony.

The nightmare changed. Now it was his mother on the ceiling, her face hazy, an image garnered from a photo rather than memory. Then in rapid succession; Jess again, then Kate.

_Sam!_ his older sister's voice was the only one he'd heard so far, aside from the unidentified whispers.

_Sam, help me! I need you, I'm in—_

A scream as she was consumed by flames.

Sam gasped as he woke, sweat cooling his skin and drawing out goosebumps. He wiped his brow with a shaking hand, turning over to confirm—Jess rested beside him, breathing deep and steady in sleep, her skin clear and unmarked by fire. He reached for his phone, intending to call Kate—she was with Dad and Dean, doubtless working a case and just fine, but he'd feel better if he could hear her voice.

Four rings, and he heard her voice mail pick up. "Emma Porter Photography, I'm not available right now. Please leave a message at the beep!"

Odd. Maybe she was asleep. Sam tried to slow his racing heart. Kate was fine, Kate was _always_ fine. Dad wouldn't let anything happen to her; Dean would rip apart anyone or anything who so much as considered harming his sister. Kate was safe.

He was just beginning to succeed in calming down when a scraping from the other room caught his attention, protective instincts screaming instantly. Sam rose slowly, quietly from the bed, sliding into the hall to investigate.

A shadow, another clunk from the living room, or perhaps the kitchen. Silently locating his hunting knife, Sam stuck to the shadows, expertly maneuvering until he saw a shadowy figure sneak past the doorway ahead of him.

Kitchen, then.

Grimly, Sam backed up against the wall behind the kitchen door, waiting. The intruder walked through a moment later. The only sound Sam made as he jumped the man was a quiet expelling of air-but it was apparently enough to alert his opponent, who turned and expertly twisted the knife out of Sam's grip. They scuffled for a minute before the shorter man managed to sweep Sam's legs out from under him. The former hunter landed hard on his back, and when the intruder followed up and pinned him down, his face was revealed in the white light of the moon. Sam breathed a little easier even through his shock.

"Easy tiger," the man said quietly, that stupid snarky grin on his face.

"_Dean_?" Sam breathed. "You scared the crap outta me, man!"

"That's because you're out of practice," Dean replied, nearly snickering.

Sam's narrowed eyes were the only warning Dean got before his younger brother broke his hold and mercilessly reversed their positions, slamming Dean hard into the linoleum. The older man just grinned harder.

"Or not."

That was quite enough dicking around. Sam stood, helping Dean to his feet too, determined to get to the bottom of this.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"Well, I _was_ looking for a beer," Dean snarked. Sam's look darkened, and Dean held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Okay, okay; we gotta talk."

Mystified, Sam gestured aimlessly. "Um, the phone?"

"If I had called, would you have picked up?"

There was a beat, and Sam acknowledged that he likely wouldn't have. But—

"You could've had Kate call. I've spoken to her at least once a month since—"

"Sam?" Jess' voice, sleepy and confused as she flipped on the kitchen light.

All three of them blinked, Dean recovering first. A grin spread across his face, and Sam nearly sighed.

_Oh, here we go._

"I love the Smurfs," his brother said, gesturing to Jess' short tee, and Sam could practically hear the man winking. He cut his brother off.

"Hey, sorry to wake you. Dean, this is my girlfriend, Jessica."

Dean's eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly, and Jess looked back to Sam, surprised.

"Your _brother_ Dean?"

Dean had recovered from any momentary shock. "I gotta tell you, you are _way_ out of my brother's league." Sam rolled his eyes.

Jess looked a bit uncomfortable. "Let me just put something on..."

"No, no, wouldn't dream of it," Dean grinned. "Besides, I gotta chat with your boyfriend. Kinda a private, family thing."

Oh no, Sam wasn't having any of that. He walked over to Jess just as she murmured "all right," and put an arm around her shoulder.

"No." he said firmly. "Whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her."

Annoyance flashed in Dean's eyes. "Um, okay. Dad hasn't been home in a few days."

Sam scoffed internally. That was hardly odd behavior from John Winchester. "So he's working overtime on a Miller Time shift. He'll stumble back sooner or later."

Dean shook his head, as if Sam wasn't getting his point. "No, Sammy. Dad's on a hunting trip with _Kate_, and he hasn't been home in a few days."

Hunting? With Kate? Well that changed things. Maintaining contact with one another while hunting separately was generally Winchester standard procedure—it was how they were certain each other were all right. Lack of contact was a bad sign, but easily attributed to drunkenness in their dad's case. However, being unable to reach Kate...Sam understood why Dean had come.

"Jess, excuse us," he said finally. "We're going to go talk outside."

She nodded, and he squeezed her hand as she left the room. He and Dean headed outside and down to the parking lot. Not liking where this conversation was headed, Sam spoke.

"You can't just show up here in the middle of the night and expect me to hit the road with you, Dean."

"Did you hear me?" Dean asked sharply, no longer even attempting to hide his concern. "Dad's missing, Kate's missing. You gotta help me find them, man. It's been a couple weeks since I heard from Kate, and that's not like her at all, you know that. Something is wrong; now are you coming with me or not?"

Sam wanted to say no, he really did. He was settled into college life, happy here, normal and content. Not to mention the interview was Monday. _The_ interview. He couldn't leave.

But he couldn't _not_ go, either. He knew even as he debated with himself that he'd be accompanying Dean.

"They're in real trouble, I can feel it," Dean was nearly pleading now. "Sammy, I can't do this without you."

Sam scoffed. "Yes you can." That much, at least, was true.

Looking uncharacteristically vulnerable, Dean shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Yes well. I don't want to."

Giving in, Sam sighed. "So...what were they hunting?"

* * *

Kate snapped back to consciousness abruptly, sitting bolt upright with a crunch of leaves.

Where was she?

Looking around, she didn't recognize anything. She was in a forest, it seemed, the autumn underbrush prickly and dull. A chilly breeze blew, causing an involuntary shiver to rush up her spine. Kate hugged her arms close; great, she was in the middle of nowhere in October with nothing but a light jacket.

At least it was southern California, so she was unlikely to die from cold. She smacked her dry lips, wondering how long she had been out.

Thirst might be an issue, though.

How had she even gotten here? Waking up in the middle of a forest with no recollection of how she came to be there was odd, even for her...

Kate assessed her situation while she struggled to jog her memory. No broken bones, no heavy bleeding; a few scratches, an aching chest, sore head...she ran her fingers gingerly along her temple and felt the all-too-familiar roughness of dried blood beneath her fingertips.

"Ouch!" she whispered; her head was tender and puffy beneath the cut, pounding more now that she had inadvertently aggravated it. Sighing, Kate released her long blonde hair from the ponytail she'd been wearing—thinking again that she ought to just chop it all off, the thick waves heavy and tangled. It helped a bit, the pain lessened when her hair was loose. Shaking leaves and bits of bracken onto the forest floor, she stood slowly.

Her knees were shaky—from pain, and likely the head wound, she knew—but she was relatively steady; certainly able to walk, maybe find some civilization before dusk. Eyeing the sun's position in the sky—it was late afternoon—Kate started walking.

The Woman in White. That had been it. Constance Welch. The Girl Who Couldn't Go Home.

Dad had left Kate not long after they'd figured it out. Received a call, and just up and left with a cursory explanation—he had a hard lead on the demon that had killed mom all those years ago—and orders to find a way to get Constance back into her house. That would break her spell and send her soul to...wherever ghosts went when they were finally killed for good.

Of course, following that particular order of Dad's had turned out to be something of a bitch; she didn't really fit Constance's profile for victims, being female and single and all.

But she'd caught the ghost in the act of killing some poor bastard on the Bridge and confronted her.

"I know what you are, Constance Welch," she'd said. "And I'm going to take you home."

That was when the ghost had thrown her clear across the bridge, and she'd blacked out, only to awake in the middle of the forest.

_Well done, there, Kate. Real quality work, that. How many men has she killed while you were taking your little nap?_

Kate picked up her pace a little, heading approximately west since she knew the forest was east of Jericho. If she could at least find a road...

* * *

Dean drummed his fingers against the wood of the table, trying not to let show exactly how pissed he was at being caught by the cops. Plus it was mid-afternoon, and he hadn't eaten since breakfast, which just made him grumpier. Luckily, Sam had slipped out before they caught him; but Dad and Kate were still missing, they were likely dealing with an angry spirit that would happily target any man in the town and kill him if she deemed him "unfaithful"—which she could easily rationalize from just about any sort of behavior—and he was sitting at a table being useless.

Some days this job sucked.

The cop walked in a second later, holding a box of what Dean knew was considered "evidence"—papers, maps, photos, personal items from Dad and Kate's hotel room. He looked at the officer, careful to keep his face defiant but calm.

"So you want to tell us your real name?" the cop asked, impatient.

Dean shrugged. "I told you, it's Nugent. Ted Nugent."

Not buying it, the cop growled, "I'm not sure you realize just how much trouble you're in, boy."

"Like misdemeanor trouble?" Dean snarked. "Or squeal-like-a-pig trouble?"

With that, the officer lost all pretense at civility. "I've got people missing, the feds up my ass, and zero patience. You got the faces of ten missing persons taped to your wall, along with a whole slew of Satanic mumbo-jumbo. Boy, you are officially a suspect."

"Yes, that makes sense," Dean was almost laughing. "Because when the first one went missing in '82, I was...three years old."

The sheriff was undeterred. "We know you have partners. One of them's an older guy, maybe he started the whole thing." He reached into the box and tossed a leather journal onto the tabletop. Dean's devil-may-care facade slipped.

_Dad's journal. _

It suddenly felt chilly in the room. Dad never went _anywhere_ without his journal.

"So tell me, Dean," the cop was still freaking _talking_. "Is this his?"

Dean didn't trust his voice yet.

"I thought that might be your name," the man continued. "See, I leafed through it...well, what of it I could make out, anyway. It's nine kinds of crazy in there, but...see, I found this, too."

He laid the now-open journal in front of the young man, and Dean felt relief course through his veins, nearly toppling him with its intensity.

**DEAN, 35 -111**

Dad was alive. He'd left the journal on purpose, with a message for Dean; he wasn't dead.

And if Dad was alive, Kate was likely with him.

His family was safe. Or at least as safe as they ever were.

Concealing his reaction as best he could, Dean looked back up at the officer, who was saying, "You're staying right here until you tell me what the hell this means."

"High school locker combo."

"That's a lie."

"No seriously, man, it's my high school locker combo. I gave it to dad in case anything happened to me."

The sheriff was beginning to lose his cool.

"Look, how many times do I have to say it? It's my high school locker combo, my name is Ted Nugent, and I didn't kill any of those missing people—"

Suddenly, one of the deputies poked his head in the door. "We just got a 911. Shots fired, over on Whiteford Road."

The sheriff turned to Dean. "Hey, you gotta go to the bathroom?"

"Uh...no?"

The officer whipped out a pair of cuffs and shackled one of Dean's wrists to the table.

"Good."

Dean rolled his eyes as the man left: he'd left the journal in easy reach, and there was a paperclip inside it. Dean grinned as he jimmied the lock on the cuffs.

Now to meet up with Sam. It was time to close the lid on this case, then go find Dad and Kate.

* * *

Finally, _finally_, after a night spent outside and a day walking, Kate found the highway.

_It's about freaking time._

She was only a few miles out of town, thank God, the old Welch house right on the way. She'd stop there, get Constance into her house somehow, thereby finishing off the ghost, and then go clean up the hotel room. Charge her phone up enough to call Dean—he had to be worried sick by now.

She snorted. If she knew Dean, he was likely _looking_ for her already, rather than just sitting somewhere on his thumbs worrying. She hoped he was far away from Jericho, though; this case was solved already, and she didn't want him near Constance. The woman was an absolute bitch.

Shaking her head, she started the hike back toward town, careful and alert.

* * *

Barely forty-eight hours since leaving Stanford, Sam thought wildly while reaching desperately for the ignition, and he was already in a life-threatening situation. Constance Welch was awfully strong for such a slight build, which wasn't surprising, given the fact she was a ghost.

A ghost currently kissing him. _Gross_.

Sam kicked his feet uselessly in the driver's seat. Constance had turned off the car using her freaky ghost powers, and now...his fingers stretched desperately, but with that kiss, Constance evidently had what she needed to consider him unfaithful. The next thing Sam knew, she was gone and in her place, excruciating pain inside his chest; as if he was burning to death from the inside out. Sam ripped at his shirt, watching with wide eyes and a cry of alarm as five angry burn marks appeared on his skin.

His alarm only heightened when lightning flashed, and he could see Constance again, straddling him still, but this time with her hand buried _inside his chest_. Sam's heart hitched painfully, feeling like someone was squeezing the life out of it.

Which, let's face it, was basically what was happening.

He reached again, despite his weakening state. Everything hurt, he was close to blacking out...if he could just turn on the car, press the gas for five seconds...

Sam gasped as the pressure in his chest increased; Constance knew what he was trying to do.

_Dammit. Dean, where are you?_

A concussive shot rang out at the same time the driver's side window shattered. Constance lifted her head and looked to the side, hissing ferally.

_Speak of the devil._

With the ghost distracted by the multiple gunshots coming her way, Sam was able to lunge forward just enough to reach the ignition.

"I'm taking you home!" he growled.

Desperately, he turned the key and stomped the gas pedal. The car bounded forward, up onto the porch and through the front door, right into the living room of the dilapidated old house.

Constance had disappeared, it seemed, for the moment. Sam sat up, looking around for his brother.

"Dean!" someone shouted, footsteps nearing the car.

Well, that wasn't Dean's voice, but Sam smiled anyway. "In here!"

Kate's blue eyes appeared just outside the driver's side window moments later. After a split second of shock, she smirked.

"Well you're not Dean. Nice to see you, little brother. Thought you were at Stanford."

He couldn't help but smile back. "Long story. You had us worried there, Katie. Where were you?"

"Long story," Kate grunted as she helped Sam out of the car. The radio flicked on, the wind picking up almost imperceptibly. Sam almost fell as Kate let go of him suddenly, dashing to the trunk and wrenching it open to get at their weapons. Constance would be back any moment now.

"Sam!" now his older brother scrambled through the opening the Impala had created in the wall, eyes only for the younger man. Sam gripped his arms tight.

"I'm fine," he breathed. "Dean, _Kate_..."

"What?" Dean's eyes were wide.

"I think what our baby brother means to say," Kate grinned, shoving an axe at Dean and holding the sawed-off in the other hand, "is that I'm right behind you. Hello, Dean."

Dean looked ready to mash Kate into a hug, but as his gaze slid past her, his eyes widened. Kate and Sam both reacted, turning to meet the threat, stepping closer together.

Constance stood across the room, murder in her gaze. Kate leveled the shotgun at her, and the ghost's eyes flicked to a heavy oak dresser against the far wall. "Watch out!" Sam shouted. Before Kate could pull the trigger, the dresser slid across the floor, slamming into the siblings and pinning them against the Impala.

Sam held his breath, expecting his legs to be crushed; Dean had anticipated the same thing, and shoved the axe between the oak and the car at an angle just in time, so the dresser stopped centimeters from seriously hurting them all. Still, Dean's yelp of pain told him one or more of the iron knobs had likely struck him despite his quick thinking.

"Kate!" Sam shouted as Constance stalked toward them. He couldn't wiggle out of this, and now the axe was...unavailable. The only weapon they now held that would work against the ghost was the shotgun.

Kate knew what he was thinking, her voice strained as she responded to him. "I dropped it, Sammy, I'm trying to reach!"

"Well reach faster," Dean answered gruffly.

Kate didn't waste time snapping back, but redoubled her efforts to reach the gun, which lay on the ground only inches from her fingertips. Sam and Dean pushed hard against the dresser, hoping to give their sister a little bit of space to slide out; but Constance wasn't having any of it, her gaze darkening as the dresser pressed an inch closer to the siblings instead. A sound of pained distress escaped Dean's throat when the knobs pressed harder into his body, and Kate yelped as she was shoved back hard, into the car window at her back.

Sam was aware of water streaming down the walls near the stairwell. Constance heard it a moment later, too; she froze where she was, a look of fear passing her ghostly features.

"You've come home to us, mommy," said a small voice from the top of the stairs. Sam couldn't see anything, but he didn't have to to know that his plan had succeeded.

Constance Welch was home.

Two children appeared on either side of the Woman in White, and Sam scrunched his eyes shut as lights flashed, screams sounded, and Constance and her children were dragged into the afterlife.

It was silent in the old house for a moment after the screams faded. Sam moaned a little as his pains made themselves known again, especially his aching chest.

"Well that was fun," Kate remarked dryly.

"Shut up and push," Dean responded. Their combined strength shoved the dresser back a few inches—not much, but enough for them to slide out. Dean climbed atop the old chest to help Sam, seeming to realize his youngest brother was struggling to remain on his feet. As he worked, he spoke, sounding more content than Sam had heard him since seeing him again.

"So this is where she drowned her kids."

Sam nodded. "That's why she could never go home. She was scared to face them."

Dean grinned, and Sam saw a bit of pride in his eyes. "So you found her weak spot. Nice work there, Sammy."

Sam smiled back, when Kate's voice came, indignant. "Hey now, Dad and I figured it out a couple days ago."

Dean made sure Sam was steady before turning to his smiling sister. He rounded on her a bit roughly. "Speaking of which, where exactly have you been?" Kate cocked an eyebrow, defiant.

"Constance smacked me around and then stashed me in the forest, Dean. I got back as fast as I could—and not a moment too soon, I might add," she looked meaningfully at Sam, who smirked.

"Yeah, what was that anyway? What were you thinking, shooting Casper in the face?"

Kate laughed. "Hey, I saved your life—"

She was cut off as Dean pulled her hard against his chest, still scowling. "Don't do that again," his brother murmured against her hair. Kate just squeezed him tightly in response.

Sam smiled. It really was good to see them, together and safe and well. Kate peeked at him from the circle of Dean's arms.

"I know you're far too macho for this," she remarked, her voice muffled. "But get over here, Sam."

His grin never faltering, Sam hobbled over to his siblings on shaky legs. Kate pulled back from Dean just enough to wrap one arm around Sam's ribs, effectively pulling both men into a three-way hug. She sighed contentedly. "Missed you guys."

* * *

It took almost half an hour for Dean to finagle the Impala out of the living room, during which time Kate used the light from the headlights to treat what of Sam's injuries she could. The burns on his chest got aloe vera cream, the sundry small cuts from deliberately crashing the car through a wall got cleaned and bandaged, and she wrapped him tight in a blanket and told him to sit quietly so his body could recuperate from the trauma of having his heart squeezed like an overripe fruit.

When they finally hit the road again, Sam used a ruler and map to find the coordinates Dad had left for them.

"Okay," he announced upon locating the tiny blip on the map. "Here's where Dad went. Place called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado."

"Sounds charming," Dean replied dryly. "How far?"

"About six hundred miles."

"Hey, if we shag ass, we could get there by morning."

Kate put in her two cents' by thumbs-upping him from the backseat, but Sam hesitated. "Dean, I, um..."

Dean looked over at him. "You're not going." It wasn't a question.

Kate's eyes popped open. "What?"

"The interview's in, like, ten hours," Sam pleaded. "I gotta be there."

"Interview?" Kate interjected. "What interview?"

"Sam's got an interview with Stanford Law School tomorrow morning," Dean answered, obviously trying to be upbeat about it.

Kate gasped. "Sam?"

He nodded, torn between pride and shame. He felt like he was abandoning his family for a shot at a normal life. But when he turned to apologize, Kate was grinning.

"Our Sammy? An interview with Stanford Law School. How did you score on your LSAT? You were stressing about it last time we talked."

Sam blushed. "One-seventy-four."

Kate laughed out loud. "Dean! Our Sammy's a genius! Legitimately!" Dean was smiling—a small one, but a genuine one—Kate's excitement catching.

"Wow, Sam. I am so proud of you," Kate said, reaching forward to squeeze his shoulder affectionately.

"Thanks," he smiled. "But I really gotta get back if I'm going to make it, so—"

"—We'll drive you, Sam," Dean said. The youngest Winchester understood it as it was meant: a gesture of support. He nodded, flicking off the flashlight and closing his eyes.

"One-seventy-four on the LSAT," he heard Kate mutter to herself, and he smiled. "That's my Sammy."

Then he slept.

* * *

They drove through the night, stopping only once for fuel and so Kate could take over driving for Dean, whose bruises were rather more spectacular than he wanted to let on and paining him greatly. Kate shook her head as he winced when he thought she wasn't looking.

_Men_.

He was moody about something, too. She wasn't stupid; she knew he'd hoped pulling Sam from Stanford and hunting together again would bring their wayward brother back into the fold. But she knew better.

Sammy hated hunting, always had. She didn't really blame him; it was pretty crappy, as jobs went. Shit pay, no benefits, constant threat of torture or death or maiming... She thought it was worth it, in the end; but unlike Dad and Dean, didn't figure there was anything wrong with Sam pursuing a life of his own. He was smart, and would make a great lawyer, and she was proud of him.

She knew Dean was, too. They both had always rejoiced in Sammy's successes, been proud of how smart he obviously was, and reaped the benefits of that intelligence multiple times when his bookish brain managed to save their lives yet again. That said, Dean seemed to take Sam's decision to go to college as a betrayal, rather than as a simple life choice that Sam had the right to make.

And so, she'd been stuck playing liaison between her brothers (and Dad) for two years now, since Sam left. It was a position she filled happily, knowing someday they would be grateful for it.

And besides; Stanford Law. _Wow_.

She smiled again.

It was early Monday morning—still dark—when she pulled up in front of Sam's apartment. Her baby brother looked torn for a moment as he hesitated.

"You'll call me if you find him?" he asked, softly.

"Of course," Kate assured him.

"Maybe...maybe I can meet up with you later, yeah?" this bit was said for Dean's benefit, and Sam looked at his older brother hopefully. Dean nodded. "Sure. Okay."

With a nod, Sam opened the door and stepped out. Dean got out of the back, to come take over shotgun, and the boys stopped, standing close together. Kate grinned when Dean held out a hand.

"Sam. We made a great team back there."

She didn't see his face, but she saw her younger brother bat Dean's hand aside and pull him into a hug. A short, slightly awkward hug; but it was something. Dean sat down in the passenger's seat and slammed the door a second later, looking out the window and watching as Sam went inside the dorm.

Kate let him brood for a minute after their brother disappeared into the building, then punched his shoulder gently. "You all right?"

Dean blinked away the emotion from his eyes. "Fine. Let's go find someplace to crash; I'm exhausted." Kate smiled, grabbing his wrist and twisting it to see the time on his watch. "It's morning already, you know—"

She stopped. "Dean, your watch needs a new battery, I think."

Her brother scoffed. "Does not, I literally just replaced this one last week."

"But it's..."

"What?" Dean yanked his hand back and looked. Sure enough, the hands of the watch had stopped. Half a beat later, the Impala's headlights flickered, at the same time the streetlight did.

Panic washed over Kate, cold and suffocating as she remembered:

_Waking up to Mom's scream, crying as she shook Dean, wondering vaguely why the clock above his bed had stopped moving. It hadn't been until later they understood that very powerful monsters could affect timekeeping devices as well as lights and electronics..._

"Sam," Dean whispered, and then they were both out of the car, tearing toward the dorm room. Dean slammed into the front door, but it held tightly, locked to all but residents at this time of night. Kate pulled her lock pick set out of her back pocket and set to on the door.

"Come on, hurry, _hurry_..." Dean muttered as she worked. If she hadn't been so terrified for Sammy, she would've slapped him.

The lock gave a moment later, and Dean shoved past her as she ordered him, "Go, Dean, I'll be right behind you!"

She took a split second to stow her lock pick, then dashed after her brother. His longer legs carried him up the stairwell faster than her, though, so by the time she reached Sam's floor, she could already see fire licking at the ceiling as it exited his room.

_No, no, not Sammy..._

Two steps down the hall, and Dean stumbled out the door, dragging a screaming Sam with him.

"No! Jess! No, Dean, let me go!"

"Sam!" Kate shouted, grabbing his other arm and helping Dean manhandle their giant of a brother toward the stairs. "Sam, she's gone! Please, come on, Sammy, we have to get out of here!"

Sam looked as though Kate had punched him, but he stopped struggling. Together, the three siblings made their way out of the dorm, then across the street where they deposited Sammy gently on the hood of the Impala.

It was so like that awful night twenty-two years prior, that Kate struggled hard to hold back tears; sitting with Sam quietly while Dean moved closer to watch emergency services work.

After a while, Sam stood and went to the arsenal in the trunk, Kate following close. He aimlessly began checking weapons, seemingly oblivious to the fact there were a lot of people around who might see; so Kate assumed a guard stance, knowing he needed to be allowed to think for a moment. Dean approached a few minutes later, and the two shared a look, mutual concern and pain for Sammy evident in both sets of eyes, blue and green.

Dean stood beside Sam, looking down into the trunk.

"We got work to do," Sam growled.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the Winchesters, except Kate.

A/N: Special thanks to **What You See In The Shadows** for his help and support of this tale. Thanks also to **Loes**, **summerald**, **Cassandrala**, and **KungFuSchildi** for their kind reviews!

Quick note about Blackwater Ridge: It's not a real place, BUT the coordinates in John's journal point to a town called Edwards, CO; very close to Pike National Forest. Useless trivia, but I thought it was interesting! Enjoy!

* * *

If there was one unspoken rule Winchester men followed religiously, Kate mused as she worked to help Sam pack up two years' worth of acquired worldly possessions, it was to bury anything resembling emotion under several metric tons of sass and surliness. Sam had always been something of an exception to this, possibly because of Kate's influence upon his childhood; for while she was hardly a drama queen, Kate was probably the most emotionally accessible member of their dysfunctional little family. Sam had absorbed a fraction of that accessibility, and together they had badgered Dean into showing a bit of emotion that didn't involve being distant or sarcastic once in a while, providing the occasional release that Kate knew her brother needed. It was a system that worked between the siblings; imperfect but functional, like a lot of things in their life.

But Kate was beginning to think she may have to work on turning the tables in this case.

In the three days since Jess' death, Sammy had been quiet and sullen enough to set off alarm bells in Kate's head. What concerned her wasn't the flashes of anger she caught at odd moments, or even the way he snapped at her over seemingly innocent things; it was his lack of expression, the way he hadn't slept since that night, spending every moment on his computer or working interviews with Dean to try and track down Jess' killer. She knew he was angry, but she also knew he was heartbroken.

Except he was reacting like…

Kate tensed as she realized where she'd seen this single-minded obsession, this exhausting, near-disturbing focus before.

Sam was acting like Dad.

The parallel worried Kate. Her vibrant, sweet Sam turning into their distant, bitter father was horrifying. The difference between her brother and Dad was that Dad hadn't had anyone to pull him back from that edge, and the three siblings had been too young to know how.

Sam had her and Dean. Perhaps it was time to enlist her oldest brother's help—sometimes his brutally tactless approach worked better than her softer one.

Kate sighed as she reached up to the mostly-empty top shelf of Sam's closet. All that rested up there was a shoebox, doubtless full of random bits of fluff or something. She wondered what Sam intended to do with all of this stuff—he obviously couldn't take it on the road with them. Perhaps a storage unit, like Dad tended to favor.

Her thoughts stuttered to a halt as she lifted the cardboard lid.

The box was full of odds and ends, as she anticipated; but they weren't useless bits. There were photos, a few notes she recognized as ones she'd written Sam during the times they were separated (most notably the past two years when he was at Stanford), a tarnished Zippo (what?), an old leather thong bracelet she recognized as one Dean had made in a fit of sentimentality as a preteen—she had a matching one that she kept in her journal.

But what took her breath away was the small velvet box that rested atop a stack of letters.

Knowing what was inside, but afraid to believe it, Kate balanced the shoebox on her arm and opened the tiny velvet case. A glittering diamond winked back at her, quickly obscured by the tears that rushed the Hunter's eyes.

"Oh Sammy."

"What?" came his gruff voice from somewhere behind her. She turned just in time to see his expression shift as he realized what she was holding. He went from brooding to furious before Kate had time to register the change.

"What are you doing?" he snarled, pouncing at her and snatching the jewelry box from her loose grip. The precariously balanced shoebox hit the carpet with a muffled thump, scattering papers and odds and ends all over the closet. "Why are you going through my stuff?" Sam shouted as Kate went to her knees and began gathering things up, stuffing them back into the shoebox, half-blinded by tears she wasn't sure she understood.

"I was just trying to see what was—"

"You can't just come in here and start snooping…" Sam petered off, seemingly rendered speechless by rage. Kate chanced a look up at his face as she gently placed the last of the keepsakes—the leather bracelet—into the box and replaced the lid. His expression was hard and pale, dark circles under his eyes highlighted by the terrible lighting and his anger. "Get out," he growled.

Well that was a bit of an overreaction.

"Sammy, come on, I was just trying to help—"

"GET OUT!"

Kate blinked; Sam had never, in all their years, _roared_ at her like that. Not out of anger. She backed out of the closet, stood still for just a moment in case he changed his mind, and when he didn't, turned and walked out.

She paused outside the door; wavering between the urge to go find a corner somewhere and cry, and finding Dean and doing something productive. Heaven knew sometimes she just needed to stop and freaking _cry_.

But she pulled out her phone instead, dialing her older brother's number.

There was work to be done.

* * *

Jess' funeral was every bit as dismally hard as Dean had expected it to be. Sam was basically silent throughout, as he had been for days, and barely responsive even to his friends. They milled about quietly, as if uncertain how to respond to this traumatized version of the young man they'd come to know.

_Welcome to the club._

Dean couldn't say he was surprised by Sam's reaction to the entire situation; he'd seen it before, after all, following Mom's death. He'd been considerably younger, and that time it had been Dad with that haunted look in his eyes; but those days still played with shocking clarity in his mind when he looked at Sam in his best suit, surrounded by people who had no idea who he really was or how Jess had really died.

He _was_ a bit taken aback, though, at Sam's coldness toward Kate. It was new; regardless of how bad things had ever gotten, Sam had always had a connection with Kate that Dean would have envied, had he not had a relationship of equal depth with his sister. But where Dean and Kate were snarky with each other, their interaction usually marked by jibes and an unspoken foundation of _Protect Sammy At All Costs;_ Kate and Sam were markedly more like regular siblings in the way they acted with one another. They hugged a lot (_barf_), laughed and joked and made fun of the situations around them, shared hopes and dreams and accomplishments. It was all a bit nauseating, really.

At least that was Dean's story, and he was sticking to it.

But in the days following the funeral, Sam barely looked at Kate, much less had any meaningful interaction with his older sibling. Kate was troubled by it, Dean could tell; though he had no idea what had gone down between them that day. One minute Kate had been helping Sam pack, and the next she'd been at his side, insisting that Sam didn't need her.

Dean's assessment of the half-packed apartment that evening had proven _that_ assertion to be false. Something had happened between his younger siblings, and Dean didn't like it, whatever it was.

But then, the entire situation was just plain lousy. Add to that the fact they'd been on this campus for nearly a week now, and Dean was getting particularly itchy to get out and find Dad. Or at least do _something_.

Kate agreed with his sentiments that night over a quiet carton of Chinese takeout.

"I really want to get outta here," she sighed. Dean nodded. "I know the feeling."

"What about Sam?"

Dean looked at her askance. "He'll come with us, of course. He won't stay here, not when that…_thing_…is still on the loose."

Kate nodded, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "I meant, how are we going to tell him we're leaving?"

"We just tell him, Kate. Why wouldn't we? On that subject, what is up with you two lately? Usually, it's your shoulder Sammy'd be crying on."

A flash of something in Kate's eyes—pain, Dean recognized—before a bitter mutter, "Yes well, I wish I knew."

Dean stared at her, knowing it'd prompt more of an explanation. She stared back, defiant, but couldn't hold it for too long before sighing. "I don't know, Dean. He won't talk to me. The other day I found a ring while packing," Kate's expression twisted into one of grief, "Dean, he was going to ask Jess to _marry_ him. But I found the ring, and he flipped out. Hasn't really spoken to me since."

"Geez," Dean muttered, rubbing out the growing pressure between his eyes. "It was that serious, huh?"

Kate nodded. "I can't believe it got her. She was about as far removed from all this as a person can get; Sammy should've been safe. _Jess_ should've been safe."

Dean forcibly shut his mouth, really not interested in having this conversation with Kate right now. He'd told her, over and over, there was no escaping this life. They, the Winchesters, didn't get normal life decisions like whether to go away to college or get married or have children. Those things were for other people; their job was to protect those people from monsters. But no, Kate had always been convinced Sam, at least, could get away from it; had encouraged the boy in school and in his slow drift away from the rest of the family.

It was something Dean never could quite forget, her part in Sam's decision to leave them.

But looking at Kate right now, the age gap between them suddenly seeming much larger than the two years it was, he couldn't really find it in himself to be angry. If he was honest, his sister's unfailing faith, that foundational belief that everything would be okay, that they had the right to be happy and make decisions for themselves, was something he hoped the world never beat out of her.

So instead of snapping or arguing, he just changed the subject. "I'll talk to Sam. Be ready to go in the morning."

Kate nodded and went back to her sesame chicken.

* * *

Sam gritted his teeth against the irrational frustration that clogged his throat. They were checking out the Ranger's station at Blackwater Ridge, somewhere in Colorado; and Kate was trying unsuccessfully to stifle her excitement.

"Did you know Blackwater Ridge rests in Pike National Forest?" she whispered to Sam, seeming to forget momentarily that he was angry and brooding, or even that they were on a hunt. "It was named after this explorer named Zebulon Pike, and covers over a million square miles."

"_Zebulon_ Pike?" Dean asked as he walked by. "What were his parents smoking?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Zebulon is a Biblical name, Dean. Been around forever."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, so is Hepzibah. You'd still have to be crazy to name your kid that. Dude, check out the size of this bear." Sam went to look at the picture Dean indicated, and Kate smiled.

"Dozen or more grizzlies in the area," Sam stated. "It's no nature hike, that's for sure."

"Which is why people come out here," Kate interjected. "It's a challenge, a little bit dangerous, and not easy to survive here."

"You lot aren't thinking of going out to Blackwater Ridge by any chance?" came an unfamiliar voice from the doorway. The siblings all turned, and Sam saw Kate put on her most winning smile—that one intended to charm her way out of any situation. Despite his recent annoyance with his older sister, Sam was surprised at the rush of affection that swamped him at such a familiar reaction from her.

The Ranger behind them looked stern.

"No sir," Sam answered lightly. "We're environmental studies majors from UC Boulder, just working on a paper."

Kate rolled her eyes and muttered, "Group projects, ugh," at the same time Dean raised his fist and asserted, "Recycle, man."

Sam actually cracked a smile at that, though his mild amusement was rather quashed when the Ranger scoffed at their answer.

"Bull."

The siblings stared at one another.

"You're friends with that Haley girl, aren't you?" the Ranger continued. Sam almost laughed at the guilty expression Kate plastered on her face, quickly but poorly concealed. She looked over at Dean as if unsure what to do next.

God, his siblings were good at this.

"Yes," Dean said hesitantly. "Yes we are, Ranger…Wilkinson."

"Well I will tell you exactly what we told her," Wilkinson replied testily. "Her brother filled out a backcountry permit saying he wouldn't be back from Blackwater until the twenty-fourth, so it's not exactly a missing persons now, is it?"

"She's just concerned—" Kate started, but the Ranger interrupted. "You tell that girl to stop worrying. I'm sure her brother is fine."

Dean nodded. "We will. That Haley, though; she quite a pistol, eh?"

Sam's brows knit together in confusion. What was Dean angling for?

But the Ranger was agreeing, and Dean responded with a request Sam was shocked actually accomplished anything. "Actually you know what would help? If I could _show_ her a copy of that backcountry permit. You know, so she could see her brother's return date." Dean was smiling as if he thought himself brilliantly helpful, and Sam stifled a sigh.

They left with a copy of the permit less than ten minutes later, Kate once again chattering—this time about wilderness survival. It was nothing the boys didn't already know; Bobby had taught them all survival and tracking as kids, though Kate was the only one who'd ever been a fan of the whole tent-and-backpack bit.

"So what's your deal?" Sam interrupted her to ask Dean as they reached the Impala. Aside from a nasty look, Kate didn't react except to shut up. "You cruising for a hookup or something?"

Dean looked a bit blank. "What do you mean?"

"The coordinates point to Blackwater Ridge, so what are we waiting for? Let's just go find Dad. I mean, why even talk to this girl?"

His siblings both looked at him like he'd grown an extra head, and Sam knew why.

"I don't know, maybe we should know what we're walking into before we actually walk into it?" Dean responded. The two kept staring at him, and Sam felt frustration bloom in his chest again.

"What?" he glared.

Dean didn't beat around the bush. "Since when are you all shoot-first-ask-questions-later, anyway?"

Sam cocked his head. "Since now." Then he got in and slammed the door, signaling the end of the conversation.

* * *

Information gathered over a late lunch at a local diner had the siblings negotiating interview duties. Sam thought it necessary to interview the only known survivor of one of these "bear attacks" that fit their case profile; Dean was still wanting to talk to Haley Collins. It was decided the boys would cover the interviews separately while Kate prepared for a trip up to the Ridge—because despite what they'd said to Ranger Wilkinson, they all knew they were going up to Blackwater Ridge.

They had to find Dad.

They boys took a couple of hours to finish; by the time they walked into her hotel room, bickering, Kate was just stuffing the last of the survival gear into a pack.

"...could be a skinwalker," Dean was saying. "Maybe a black dog. Whatever we're talking about, we're talking about a creature, and it's _corporeal_. Which means we can kill it."

Sam was rolling his eyes, and Kate greeted her brothers with a predatory grin. "Camping in the middle of nowhere _and_ freak to hunt? Where do I sign up?"

Dean ruffled her hair lightly and received an elbow to the ribs for his trouble. "You've been signed up since you were three years old, Katydid."

Sam, still scowling, interrupted. _Again_. "We cannot let that Haley girl go up there, Dean."

"Haley's going _up_ there?" Kate asked Dean, eyes wide. Dean nodded to her question, but addressed Sam. "Her brother's missing, Sam; her parents are gone, and all she's got is her two brothers. She's not gonna just sit this out. Now we go with her, we protect her, and we keep our eyes peeled for our fuzzy predator friend."

Sam slammed down the bag of weapons he was carrying. "So what, now finding Dad isn't enough? We have to babysit too?"

Dean just stared at Sam, as if not recognizing him.

"What?" Sam asked, for the second time that day.

"Nothing." Dean shoved past his brother and slammed the door to the boys' room across the hall.

Kate sighed. "Sammy—"

"Shut up," Sam growled. "I don't want to hear it." Kate considered for a moment, trying to decide if it'd be better to push or retreat; then settled on the bed with her own leather-bound journal and began to write, leaving Sam to clean the guns in peace.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the Winchesters, except Kate.

A/N: Here's the next chapter, hope you all enjoy! But first, I'd like to thank both **What You See In The Shadows** and **summerald** for their help and support! Also thanks to **KungFuSchildi** and **TheEarthSong** for their lovely reviews!

Enjoy!

* * *

The next morning dawned bright and warm, promising a beautiful summer day. The sky was cloudless, the air clean and fresh. It was the kind of morning that would normally have prompted Sam to grab Kate and go watch the sun rise over the Colorado Rockies.

Too bad he was in no mood to enjoy it.

That clearly hadn't stopped Kate, he mused grumpily, as his sister wandered in with coffee and donuts. She'd obviously been for a brisk walk—her skin was glowing with a light sweat, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

"Come on, grouches," she announced. "We gotta get a move on if we plan to meet the Collinses at the Ridge. Especially since they don't know we're coming." Kate dodged the pillow Dean tossed at her.

"Go 'way," he muttered. Kate set breakfast down on the tiny motel table and grinned at Sam as she snatched up the pillow Dean had thrown. Approaching the oldest Winchester's bed, where he'd turned over and promptly gone back to sleep, she leaned down until her lips were mere centimeters from Dean's ear.

"WAKEY WAKEY!" she squealed in an entirely unnecessarily high voice, smacking Dean hard with the pillow and jumping back as he jerked upright. Dean made an entirely undignified "oof!" and with his limbs splayed and wriggling as he struggled to get his bearings, Sam just couldn't help himself.

He laughed—_hard_—as Dean finally managed to sit up, growling at Kate, who was giggling madly on the other bed, well out of reach. Dean looked ready to murder something, but his face softened into a mock scowl when he caught sight of both of his younger siblings' amusement.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up kids," he muttered, rolling off the bed and stumbling into the bathroom. Kate snorted again with lingering amusement, and Sam watched her cross the room and begin to divvy out the donuts and coffee; putting each meal in a small cluster, in order from left to right—Dean, Kate, Sam—same as she'd always done.

Sam stood and walked over to the table, placing a gentle hand on Kate's forearm to stop her putting a second doughnut on his paper plate. The one already occupying said plate was glazed, he noticed—his favorite, and it made him want to smile again. He couldn't quite muster it, but he wanted to.

"This is enough for me, thanks," he said softly, the kindest words he'd said to his sister in days. She gave him a brilliant smile.

"Okay."

* * *

Two hours later, the Winchesters were hiking along a tiny game trail with Haley and Ben Collins, as well as their hired guide, Roy. Kate scowled at the back of Roy's head as he sprung a bear trap Dean had nearly stepped in.

"You should watch where you're stepping," he stated, disdain obvious in his tone. "Ranger."

The guy needed an attitude adjustment, Kate thought as she bit back a growl. Dean just smiled at him, which she suspected pissed the older man off even more.

Silently rooting for her brother, Kate focused on looking out for young Ben as Dean smirked to the group in general, "It's a bear trap."

Kate kept walking, fighting back a smile, when she noticed that prickling at the back of her neck that told her she was being watched. She looked to her left, noticing Ben look away quickly, and smiled to let him know he was caught.

"Something to say, Ben?" she asked quietly.

His wide brown eyes came back to her, looking a bit nervous. She let her smile soften just a little. "What?"

"Just…" the boy started quietly, then seemed to reconsider. Kate chuckled. "Out with it, kid, I'm pretty sure you don't have anything to say that I haven't heard before."

Ben looked skeptical, but answered a moment later, so softly she almost missed it, "You guys are weird Rangers."

Kate raised an eyebrow as she looked over at him, amused and only a little surprised. "Why would you say that?"

He pulled a face. "I'm a teenager, not stupid."

Kate laughed out loud at that, a quick glance at the rear of their group revealing Dean getting the same treatment—albeit less shyly—from Haley. Sam shoved past her with a huff of annoyance. She thought she heard him mutter something about 'a gigantic waste of time', but let it go.

Sammy was going to have to figure himself out here, and soon.

Kate turned her attention back to Ben. "We're not Rangers. We're siblings."

Ben's eyes widened, as if he was surprised she'd admitted to it. Or maybe surprised he'd been right—it was difficult to tell, really. "So what are you doing out here, then? And why help us?"

Kate hesitated, unsure how much Dean wanted these two to know about them. He usually took point on these kinds of decisions, and she didn't want to undermine him or end up telling Ben something different than Dean told Haley. Luckily for her, Dean chose that exact moment to come tromping up between his sister and the teen, munching on a bag of Peanut M&M's.

"Because our dad's out here. Or we think he might be," Dean piped up. And when Haley drew Ben forward to walk with her, leaving Dean and Kate bringing up the rear, that effectively ended the conversation.

At least the conversation with Ben.

"Katie," Dean started, a little hesitant. Or at least, lacking his usual reckless demanding tone. The change, as well as the use of the childhood version of her name, left Kate intrigued. She eyed her brother as she responded, "hmmm?"

"We haven't had a chance to talk since that thing with Constance Welch," he started, and Kate knew instantly what was going on.

Hunter Dean and Big Brother Dean both needed information: Hunter Dean would want to know everything she could tell him about Dad and his sudden departure, while Big Brother Dean would be dying to find out what exactly had happened to her during her time in the forest alone—whether she had been hurt, possessed, beaten.

The interesting part would be seeing which Dean was going to make an appearance first. "Yeah?" she prompted him.

"You said she knocked you around and left you in the woods. Was that it? Did she do anything else to you?"

Big Brother Dean it was, then.

"That was it," she assured him, careful to keep the smile off her face. He'd just call her out on it and then get all embarrassed when she implied that his macho heart actually cared about someone's welfare. "She didn't hurt me, Dean, I'm fine."

He gave a terse nod. "Good. And since you were the last one to see Dad, you know I have to ask: did he say anything giving you a clue what's up?"

Kate shook her head. "Sorry. I've told you everything I know; Dad got a random call, left right after that. All he'd say was that he had a hard lead on the Thing that killed mom."

Dean's sigh was barely audible. Kate looked over at him, a little surprised to find emotion, usually so tightly locked away, evident in his eyes.

"Why would he just leave us like this?" Dean asked softly, and she knew it was eating him and he just needed to ask it. It was a rare moment indeed when her oldest brother would be so vulnerable, so Kate stepped carefully when she answered.

"I don't know, Dean," she murmured back, just as quietly, not wanting to attract attention. "But I do know he'll be back as soon as he can be. It's Dad. He's gotten a lot wrong, but we're still his kids."

It was a testament to Dean's trust in Kate that he let her see the skepticism in his eyes. It spoke volumes to her too; things Dean would never vocalize, but all of them wondered. What if Sammy was right and Dad was just too obsessed with the monster that ruined their lives to care about them anymore? What if he was hurt or killed when he was out all alone? How would they know?

_What if Dad doesn't come back this time?_

It was a question Dean and Kate had been facing together since they were barely old enough to understand the concept of death, or abandonment. A question they'd tried to protect Sammy from for as long as possible, though that obviously hadn't lasted forever. The question that seemed ever-present in their lives, sometimes seemingly the question that _ran_ their lives.

And Kate answered the same way she always had, the same way Dean always answered when she asked it. Not the answer they'd always given Sammy, the placating "Don't worry, he'll be back; he always is!" The two of them had never been able to afford false hope or well-intentioned lies between them.

So she reached over and twisted her fingers in Dean's sleeve, squeezing briefly.

_Then we'll face the world together._

It was a simple gesture, really, a quiet one that suited Dean perfectly because it was quick and easily hidden, and neither of them ever spoke about it. Even Sammy left it alone, and Kate knew he'd seen it more than once.

Speaking of their wayward baby brother…

"What is the deal with Sam?" she asked, staying quiet. Dean gave her a soft smirk.

"Jess."

"Yeah, but…why is he so mad at _us_, then? It's not our fault."

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Have you ever met a Winchester man? Dad was like this after mom too. He's letting his pain harden into anger. It's not a bad thing."

Kate gave Dean a look that conveyed precisely how she felt about his opinion regarding the Winchester Way of Handling Painful Emotions, but sighed. "So what, now this is Sam? New and _improved_?" She spat the word "improved" as though it tasted nasty, and the implication of it did.

Dean laughed. "No, not really. He needs to learn to cool his heels; he'll run himself into the ground if he keeps going like this. I'll talk to him, okay?"

Kate nodded, grateful for his intervention. Dean and Sam had a bond that mystified her, some kind of borderline-telepathic thing that meant they understood each other in a way she was sure she never would.

Good thing too. Otherwise she wouldn't know what to do with Sam right now.

"This is it," Roy announced from the front. "Blackwater Ridge."

Kate took a deep breath and followed Dean to the front of the group.

* * *

Finding the ruined campsite where Haley and Ben's brother Tommy had been taken was a harrowing experience for the two Collins siblings. Going after the sound of a man screaming for help and returning to find their provisions and gear stolen was downright terrifying for everyone. Not that Dean would ever admit to being terrified, but what they were dealing with pretty much gave him the heebie-jeebies.

Sammy had been the first to figure it out, pulling Dean aside and showing him the entry for a wendigo in Dad's journal. Dean had protested at first, but it all fit, much to his dismay.

In true Winchester fashion, luck was just not with them. Wendigos couldn't be killed by any means other than fire—and he had left his flamethrower in the Impala.

And then Sammy _had_ to go and get into a pissing contest with Roy, nearly losing his temper with the older, arrogant man. Dean and Kate had managed to defuse that bomb before it went off—if Sam was going to lose his temper, it needed to be with someone he couldn't snap in half without trying—but the end result was just that Roy was bitchier than before, Sam more sullen, and the Collinses still didn't want to leave.

So now Dean and Kate were drawing symbols in the dirt surrounding their tiny campsite.

"One more time," Haley called from the center, where they'd built a small fire, thanks to Dean's Zippo and the abundance of wood and tinder that surrounded them. "Those are….?"

"Anasazi symbols," Dean answered, patiently. "It's for protection. The wendigo can't cross over them."

Roy snickered from his place near the perimeter. Kate's head shot up, and Dean knew the look on her face, the set of her shoulders. His sister was coiled like a snake ready to strike. Hoping to forestall any fights and thinking exasperatedly about the hot-headed nature of younger siblings, he put a hand on her back to steady her.

"You're more than welcome to step outside them if you're so sure they're crap," Kate answered tightly. Roy said nothing, just scoffed in her general direction and continued scanning the woods around them for trouble.

It made the man feel better, so Dean resisted the urge to point out that no mere human would see the wendigo coming until it was far too late to do anything about it.

Kate was obviously thinking along the same lines. "Honestly think you're going to see it coming in time to shoot it?" she muttered to herself. "Big bad hunter such as yourself, gonna take on a mutated human with enhanced speed and strength, insane hunting skills, and an appetite for your skinny ass…"

Dean couldn't help but snort. Kate settled beside him. "Sorry," she murmured.

He patted her back as he finished the symbol he was working on and went to go talk to Sam. It was quiet for now, as good a time as any to get his little brother sorted. Preferably before the kid accidentally killed someone.

Sam was sitting against a stump, brooding. Dean ignored the small niggle of sadness he'd felt often since the youngest Winchester had hit puberty, and that position—frowning, staring off into the distance, shoulders tense—had become one of his favorites. Sam had been such a lively, carefree kid; Dean and Kate had done everything in their power to preserve that, to protect him from everything. It stung to know they'd failed so miserably.

Shaking off his own angst, Dean knelt beside his floppy-haired brother, going for the cheeky approach. "You wanna tell me what's going on in that freaky head of yours?"

Sam sighed, "Dean—"

"No, you're not fine," Dean cut him off, insulted Sam would even expect him to buy that. "You're like a powder keg, man, it's not like you. I'm supposed to be the belligerent one, remember?"

Sam paused.

"Dad's not here. I mean, that much we know for sure, right? He would have left us a message, a sign, right?"

"Yeah, you're probably right," Dean conceded. "To tell you the truth, I don't think Dad's ever been to Lost Creek."

Sam looked lost. "Then let's get these people back to town and let's hit the road. Go find Dad. I mean, why are we still even here?"

Ah, here it was; the speech Dean had never yet given Sammy, the one he'd never been patient enough or in the right frame of mind to hear, always too aggressive, too closed off.

And it had only taken the death of the woman he wanted to marry to bring him here.

Dean softened. "This is why," he answered, holding up Dad's journal for Sammy to see. His brother looked at him, as if he had the answer that would make everything okay. "This book. This is Dad's single most valuable possession—everything he knows about every evil thing is in _here_. And he's passed it on to us. I think he wants us to pick up where he left off. You know, saving people, hunting things. The family business."

Sam shook his head, as if Dean had missed something vital. "That makes no sense. Why doesn't he just—call us? Why doesn't he—tell us what he wants, tell us where he is?"

The question was so close to the one in his own head that Dean almost gave himself away.

_Almost_.

"I don't know," he answered instead. "But the way I see it, Dad's giving us a job to do, and I intend to do it."

"Dean...no," Sam's voice was strained, but he was still not snapping, which Dean took to mean he was really trying here. "I gotta find Dad. I gotta find Jessica's killer. It's the only thing I can think about."

"Okay, all right, Sam," Dean hastened to assure him, willing the younger man to understand what he was trying to communicate. "We'll find them, I promise. But listen to me: you've gotta prepare yourself. I mean, this search could take a while; and all that anger, you can't keep it burning over the long haul. It's gonna kill you, not to mention completely decimate your relationship with Kate. You know I'm not one for touchy-feely conversations, but why is it her you're lashing out at so much?"

Sam looked down, and Dean could've sworn his ears turned pink in the firelight. "She reminds me of Jess," he said haltingly. "Or, I guess, Jess…reminded me of her." He made a face. "In a totally non-creepy way. They were both…_soft_, I guess? I was safe with Jess, in the same way I always have been with Kate, allowed to be off guard and gentler than our lifestyle usually allows." Sam shrugged. "Guess I was wrong about that…"

Dean shook his head, knowing where believing that would lead Sam. "Kate has that effect on all of us—except maybe Dad—but it's not a bad thing, Sam. Don't shut her out; you'll suffocate her and kill yourself. If you ever repeat what I'm about to say, I'll deny it to my dying day, but…we sorta need that. The opportunity to relax a bit, not always be strong. Kate provides that—Kate _loves_ providing that. Let her."

Sam nodded, staring into the distance. Dean let him think.

A minute later, Sam spoke again. "How do you do it? How does Dad do it?"

Knowing Sam was referring back to the gut-wrenching agony and fury they now shared, he motioned to the brother and sister who sat by the fire, leeching every bit of warmth they could from the small flame. "Well for one, them. I mean, I figure our family's so screwed to hell, maybe we can help some others. Makes things a little bit more bearable."

He paused, letting Sam absorb. "I'll tell you what else helps," he said, letting his face relax into a familiar smirk. "Killing as many evil sons of bitches as I possibly can."

And Sam smiled.

* * *

The morning dawned as cool and clear as the one before it had. This time, Sam took a moment to enjoy it. Though the ache in his chest really hadn't eased much, and he had to be alert because it was his watch, his talk with Dean the night before really had helped.

He wasn't okay. He wouldn't be for a long time. But eventually, he would be.

And that was enough for now.

Anyway, it had to be. Their situation had deteriorated overnight—Roy running off when the Wendigo had come calling had been the start of a really long night. Haley and Ben had not reacted well to the loss of their guide, though Kate had managed to keep them from panicking entirely. Sam had surprised himself by stepping in to help as well—and been even more surprised to find that the act of helping them, of filling such a familiar role and seeing positive results come from it, made the knot in his stomach loosen just a little.

But that had been followed by seven hours of hearing the creature dashing around through the trees, growling, and even adopting its mimicked-human voice, the screams and pleading calls for help wearing everyone's nerves thin. Kate had sat close to the Collinses all night, talking lowly to them and refusing to react outwardly—though Sam hadn't missed how her back muscles tightened up whenever it got close—encouraging them to remain calm with her words and example; while he and Dean had prowled the perimeter, maintaining the Anasazi symbols and ready to fight should something go wrong.

Regardless, no one had slept, and everyone was happy to see the sun peek over the mountains. Sam sighed as he stood and stretched sore muscles. He wandered over to the fire, and Haley stood.

"Hey," he said by way of greeting. "So we've got half a chance in the daylight. And I for one want to kill this evil son of a bitch."

"Well, hell, you know I'm in," Dean answered, and Kate's grin was feral.

"I came here to sit round a campfire with cool people and hunt a freak," she half-joked, "And I've been sitting round a campfire all night long."

Sam cracked a smile at that, noting that neither Haley nor Ben were quite as entertained. They looked terrified.

Unfortunately, he was only about to make that worse.

Still, necessity was sometimes a bitch; so he found himself explaining what a Wendigo was and how to kill one in a business-like tone, quickly and quietly, watching as the Collinses took in his and Dean's words. Kate stayed quiet, for which Sam was grateful. There was a lot she could've contributed to the conversation, but Haley and Ben didn't need more, and they didn't have time for it anyway.

Less than half an hour later, they were hiking together through the forest. Sam took point, Haley just behind him, then Dean in the middle, holding the Molotov Cocktail they'd whipped up special for the wendigo. Ben was behind him, and Kate took up the rear, everyone alert for trouble.

The claw marks they were following were clear and looked terrifying, even Sam was willing to admit.

And maybe a bit too easy…

He halted in a clearing—this one surrounded by bloody clawed trunks and broken branches—pushing down the fear that clogged his throat.

The wendigo had been _leading_ them. Which implied they were now right where it wanted them.

Not a comforting thought.

"Dean," he called quietly. When his brother joined him, he spoke softly. "I was thinking; those claw prints. They were almost too easy to follow."

As if to punctuate his point, the growling started up again, just outside the clearing. Dean and Sam scanned the trees around them, trying to catch a glimpse of the creature and trusting that Kate had their backs. Ben was silent, but they could hear Haley's labored, quick breathing.

"Haley!" Kate shouted, and Sam turned to see his sister yanking the woman out of the way. With a creak of branches, a bloody body landed where Haley had been standing seconds ago. Haley paled at the sight of what was left of Roy, but nodded when Sam asked if she was all right.

"His neck's broke," Dean observed.

_Shit_, Sam thought. _It's not hunting for food now; it's just pissed._

Kate's eyes widened as she realized the same thing, and Dean shouted to the group at large, "okay, run! Now, run, go!"

They didn't need much encouragement, footfalls pounding the soft underbrush as the five of them ran through the forest, not sure where exactly they were headed. Dean was leading now, figuring that would put him first in the wendigo's path; and he was holding their only real weapon, so that made sense.

Sam cursed briefly when he heard a scuffle behind him. He turned to see Ben had fallen; but Kate was helping the boy up, shouting to Sam to keep going, she had him…

Not slowing, the young hunter almost stumbled directly into Haley a few seconds later. She had stopped short and was staring in awe at something in front of her. He was about to yell at her to keep moving when he saw Dean—and the wendigo not two feet in front of them.

The skeletal creature was taller even than Sam, all gray skin, rotted teeth, and long fingers. Sam didn't have the second it would've taken to turn back and warn Kate and Ben. The thing had evidently decided three victims at once were too many—it pounced at Sam.

Pain exploded on the side of his head, and blackness descended just behind Dean's shout of "Sammy!"

* * *

Kate yelped in alarm as she nearly tripped over a huge lumpy…_something_…while running at full speed. She'd heard Dean's panicked cry, a scream, then growling, and then nothing. Icy tendrils of fear spread through her veins seeing no sign of Dean or Haley; but Sam was lying still amongst the underbrush—it was him she'd nearly tripped on.

"Sammy!" Kate cried, going to her knees and instantly beginning to look him over for injuries. Other than a thin trickle of blood from near his hairline, he appeared fine. Kate slapped his face gently.

"Come on Sam, wake up. We gotta find Dean, please don't be seriously hurt. You're way too big for me to carry while trying to beat this thing. Wake up, Sammy."

Hazel eyes blinked open, widening barely a second later. Sam sat bolt upright, a cry of alarm on his lips. "Dean!"

"Whoa there, buddy," Kate rubbed his back for a second. "We'll find Dean. And Haley." The last bit was for Ben's benefit, for the boy was standing a few feet away, holding the remains of their Molotov cocktail and looking pale with horror.

"Was it the wendigo?" he asked softly.

Sam nodded, touching his head gently. Kate slapped his hand away and dabbed at it gently with a tissue wet from her water bottle. It was hardly a satisfactory cleaning, but it'd get the worst of any dirt or bacteria out until she could irrigate it properly. The wound wasn't bad, anyhow, so long as it was as superficial as it looked. Sam seemed lucid enough, so she was hoping for the best.

"But if it keeps its victims alive," Ben continued, "why did it kill Roy?"

"Honestly?" Sam responded. "I think because he shot at it. He pissed it off."

A spot of color caught Kate's eye as she went to help Sam stand. Small, round, and far too bright to be naturally occurring…

She nearly smiled when she reached down and picked up the blue peanut M&M. _Bless Dean and his penchant for over-processed food and candy._

"They went this way," she said, holding up the tiny treasure. Sam _did_ smile.

"It's better than bread crumbs," he said, starting forward on steady legs.

The trail led them to an abandoned mine not a quarter mile from where the wendigo had snatched Dean and Haley.

"It must've figured it could carry the two of them this far," Kate remarked, "but not all three of you. And let's face it, Sammy, you're bigger than Dean."

Another smile from Sam, and Kate wondered at it. Whatever Dean had told him the night before, it must've worked. He seemed to be more himself today.

"Hooray me," he said dryly.

They entered the mine carefully, Sam leading and Kate trailing, with Ben protected between them. It was dark, musty, and smelly; Kate thought Ben was holding up remarkably well considering she knew the scent to be rotted flesh, which made her skin crawl.

They nearly ran into the wendigo a few minutes later, but Sam was quick enough, flipping off the light and pulling Ben against the wall just beyond a fork in the tunnel. Kate followed instinctively, holding Ben's wrist tightly while Sam placed a hand over his mouth; and the creature walked right past them, taking the opposite fork and growling as it stalked away. After taking a few seconds for Ben to recover, they kept walking.

The floor of the mine suddenly turned from stone to wood planks. Kate hesitated, ready to warn the boys to be careful.

She never got the chance. The wood cracked, collapsed, and with a horrible crunching sound, Ben and Sam disappeared before her eyes.

"Sammy!" she called as she went to her knees before the hole, trying not to make too much noise, but not knowing how deep the cavern went. "Ben!"

There was a beat of silence, just enough time for panic to bloom in her chest. But then…

"It's okay," she heard Sam call up. As the dust settled, she realized she could see him—the fall would've been less than fifteen feet, she thought with a sigh of relief. "We're okay, Kate."

Ben suddenly made a sound of terror from below her, and she heard Sam comforting him. "Hey, it's okay," his murmurs echoing in the chamber. "It's fine, look, over here."

"What happened?" Kate called softly. "Talk to me, Sammy."

"There's…remains," came his response, and she shuddered in sympathy for Ben. "But Dean and Haley are here! Kate, can you get down?"

"I'll go around and meet you," she answered, knowing she'd seen another tunnel fork off this one and head downward. She was willing to bet it led to that chamber.

"Be safe," Sam called up, then she heard him trying to wake Dean.

_You too, little brother. Dean, please be okay…._

She snuck softly through the tunnels, alert but hurrying as much as she could. She wanted to be with her brothers in the worst way right now; the familiar tightness in her chest reminding her they were in danger. She hated being separated from them when crap was this crappy.

A low growl echoed through the tunnel, far too close for Kate's comfort. She plastered herself against the uneven wall, trying to slow her breathing and quiet enough to pinpoint the location of the wendigo.

No joy.

Thinking fast—she was weaponless, except her hunting knife, which would be useless since the wendigo was far too fast for her to get close enough to use it—she shed her outer shirt, leaving her in her black tank top, and picked up a nearby thick branch, dry and dead from being in here for God-only-knows-how-long. With shaking hands, Kate wrapped the shirt around one end of the stick, then fumbled for her lighter, trying to ignore the goose bumps on her arms that told her trouble was coming, and fast.

"Come on, come on," she whispered as she held the tiny Zippo flame to the cotton, breathing a sigh of relief when the fabric lit. She prayed it would last at least a few minutes, then began moving again.

Cold sweat dripped down Kate's neck as she descended further into the darkness, still not seeing her brothers or the Collins siblings.

_Where are you guys?_

* * *

Dean blinked furiously to clear the lingering dizziness pounding in his temples as he walked beside Sam, the three—yes, _three_ now, thank God or whoever—Collins siblings close behind.

Now if they could just find their wayward Winchester sibling and torch this freak with the flare guns he'd found, they could call this day a success and get out of here. He figured he was definitely owed a big greasy burger for the last 48 hours' worth of nonsense.

A shrill scream echoed through the tunnels a few seconds later, and both Sam and Dean snapped to attention toward the sound. They knew that scream, had heard it far too many times for Dean's comfort.

_Kate._

* * *

The wendigo was on her before she had time to prepare, and Kate screamed in alarm as she felt its long fingers close around her midsection like a vice. It growled menacingly as it made to throw her against the wall; Kate twisted fast and shoved her makeshift torch into its face.

The sound that came from the wendigo's throat nearly made Kate cover her ears in horror—it was a scream, but rougher and more animal than any scream she'd ever heard from a human. The wendigo backed up, swiping at its burned face, giving her a split second to pick up her torch. Kate backed up quickly as she could, hoping she wasn't about to end up at a dead end or falling into some mine shaft.

"Get them out of here!" Dean shouted to Sam as he took off running toward the sound of Kate taking on the wendigo.

Alone.

_God, Kate, just hang on…_

Dean didn't slow as he reached a fork in the tunnel, knowing Sam would do as ordered. It was a hard-learned lesson they three had established long ago; that when one of them was injured, only one would go after them while the other finished the mission. Both of the other two siblings going to assist one who was hurt at the expense of the mission only meant more loss in the end; so as difficult as it was, Dean knew Sam would see the Collinses to safety before he came after Dean and Kate.

Hopefully they'd last that long.

Dean turned one last corner and shouted in horror at the sight that met him.

* * *

Kate cursed shakily as the wendigo stalked toward her. She could see its ugly face vaguely in the flickering light from her torch—it was smiling.

That was bad.

Her retreat was halted a second later when she tripped on something, then stepped on something squishy and slippery—she preferred not to think about what—and fell to her rump in the dirt. She didn't drop the torch, but now the wendigo was coming close faster, probably convinced she was less of a threat on her ass than she was on her feet.

Well, it wasn't wrong.

Kate tried to struggle upright, but the wendigo pounced. Kate held the torch upward, hoping the thing would spear itself on it, at the same moment she heard a familiar shout from nearby.

"Hey!"

* * *

Dean started forward as the wendigo landed hard on top of Kate, wincing as he heard something pop. His sister cried out—pain, he knew—but the wendigo's attention was diverted to the larger threat in the room. It howled at the injustice of having its hunt interrupted, and Dean aimed the flare gun.

He didn't want to fire with the thing standing on Kate, pretty sure that would hurt her. He had to draw it away first.

Unfortunately, the creature seemed too intent on guarding its kill to move.

"Come on, you son of a bitch!" he roared. "I'm tastier anyway, you don't know what you're missing!"

The wendigo just growled again, pressing Kate harder into the ground. His sister let out a choked yelp.

* * *

"Dean!" Kate wheezed, fighting nausea at the pain that coursed through her torso and dislocated shoulder. "Dean, just freaking shoot it!"

"Can't," her brother responded tightly. "It's standing right on top of you."

"Do it!" she tried to shout, but it just came out a weak cry. "I'll move!"

_Come on, Dean…_

Knowing better than to doubt an order given in a battle, Dean pulled both triggers on the flare guns at once. The flares burrowed into the wendigo's torso, the heat incredible even while pinned under the creature's massive feet.

Kate waited until it shrieked in agony, then shoved with both arms—her bad shoulder screaming at the treatment—and scurried backward on her rump. Dean didn't even wait for the wendigo to finish burning before he was headed toward her, kneeling and gathering her in his arms.

Kate squeaked as he jostled her shoulder, wrinkled her nose at the smell that clung to him—rotten dead things and dirt and sweat—but clutched his shirt anyway.

"Shhh," Dean murmured against her hair. "I'm here, it's over. You did good, little sister."

She laughed shakily. "Sure thing, big brother." Dean made to lift her into his arms, but Kate pushed weakly at him. "Oh, no. No. It's my shoulder that's hurt, not my leg. I can walk just fine."

Dean cocked an eyebrow. "You sure?"

"Positive."

"Kate! Dean!" Sammy's bulk appeared in the tunnel, out of breath from running. Kate smiled.

"The Collinses?" she asked.

"Safely outside waiting for us. Are you okay?"

Kate allowed Dean to help her to her feet and slung her good arm over his shoulder. "I need a joint-setting session with my chiropractor, a bath, and a new shirt."

Sam settled against her other side as they made their way out of the wendigo's lair, wrapping an arm around her waist and careful to avoid jostling her bum arm.

"Well let's go see what we can do about that," he answered. Kate smiled up at him, and was rewarded with a quick kiss to the brow. She blinked fast as she faced forward again.

Sam hadn't done that since he left for Stanford—she hadn't been aware how much she missed it.

"All right, you two," Dean groused. "Enough with the chick-flick crap. Let's get out of here."


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Kate!

A/N: Sorry for the wait on this one, guys! Huge thanks to _What You See In The Shadows_, _KungFuSchildi,_ and _Mayrem_ for their reviews! You guys rock!

* * *

_Dad, what are you doing?_

The question nagged at Kate, stealing her attention from her surroundings—a little diner in some tiny Nebraska town—and from Dean reading an obit that might lead them to a case in Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin. She caught snippets in between the questions bouncing around in her head: Sophie Carlton, 18, drowned in the Lake, varsity swimmer, college freshman.

Kate furrowed her brow. It wasn't the first time Dad had run off like this—hell, it happened pretty regularly, really—but it was the first time he'd been gone so long without so much as a phone call or hint of his whereabouts. Even all the usual contacts were no help at all.

Kate was a chess player, a strategist; a skill Dad had awakened, and Bobby had helped hone. She didn't do well without the whole picture, and Dad had currently left her with a dearth of important information.

It was unbearably frustrating.

As was Dean and Sam's bickering. Kate checked into the conversation just as Dean started in on a grouchy Sam, "You know, I'm sick of this attitude—"

"Boys, honestly," Kate muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "Sam, we'll find Dad, all right? I'm doing everything I can, we all are. But Dean's right; we have to continue working in the meantime. No one's giving up looking for him."

Sam just glared. Kate continued. "So Lake Manitoc. You said Sophie was a freshman at University of Wisconsin?"

Dean was distracted by the apparently-attractive set of legs walking by dressed in short shorts. Kate made a face and Sam snapped his fingers irritably in front of Dean's nose, getting their oldest brother's attention. "Dean. Lake Manitoc. Sophie Carlton. Freshman?"

"Uh, yeah," Dean answered, referencing the obituary again. "Why? What's that got to do with anything?"

Kate shrugged, then looked up at him; adopting a simpering, youthful smile. "Nothing really, I just think the family will be more accepting and open with Sophie's college BFF than they will the Wildlife Service, don't you agree?"

Sam blinked at the change. "Geez, Kate. You do that disturbingly well."

She batted her eyes, teasing, "Aw, thanks, Sammy. You'd be surprised how quick people drop their guard around an innocent sweet young thing."

Dean was grinning; this act was something they had really not used up until just after Sam left for Stanford—some bizarre fit of protectiveness on Dad's part had forbidden Kate from using the obvious "innocent female" card on missions until that point—so he'd never had a chance to see it turned on full blast.

"I think that'll work nicely," Dean agreed. "But since this is a small town, for the sake of continuity, we should probably go 'interview' them first before heading over to the Sheriff's Department. You can come along behind us a couple hours later."

Kate nodded. "I'll hitch a ride into town a few hours after you boys talk to the Carlton's then. Just give me a call when you're done there."

She almost laughed at Sam's slightly-incredulous look. "Hitch a ride? From a stranger?" Kate turned her quick grin on the youngest Winchester. "Well, Sammy, unless you happen to know any of the fine folks on the road between here and there."

"No, but—"

"—I'll be fine. Ninety-eight percent of people are completely harmless and will be only too happy to help out a damsel in distress. And the ones that aren't harmless, well..." Kate's grin turned wolfish. "I know how to handle myself."

Sam blinked. "Yeah, but...are you sure...Dean, we let her do this now?"

Dean laughed out loud. "She's a twenty-five year-old woman, Sam, she does as she chooses. But yes, Dad's eased up quite a bit the last few years; and she'll be in touch with us the whole time, so I'm not worried."

"Sam," Kate said, switching to a soothing voice Dean recognized as one she'd used on them a thousand times growing up. "Nothing bad is going to happen to me between here and Lake Manitoc. I'll call you when I get a ride, then again when I get there, and I'll send text messages every hour. It'll be fine."

Sam nodded, somewhat reluctantly, and Kate felt a swoop of affection for her little brother she found reflected in Dean's eyes. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, but it reassured Kate; in spite of the rift between the boys, regardless of the things her stubborn younger brother had done and her temperamental older brother had said, there was no denying Sam was still a Winchester, through and through.

Sam and Dean would be fine.

* * *

"All right," Dean said into his phone. "Yeah, the dad is really unhelpful, but you might get somewhere with Will….uh huh….just be careful, okay? Yeah, Sam and I are headed to the sheriff's office, then we'll get a hotel. Call ya later."

Sam looked at Dean as they got into the Impala. "So?"

Dean blinked. "Hmm?"

"Kate, genius. How is she?"

Dean cocked an eyebrow. "She's fine, Sam. You know she's been in much more dangerous situations without you before." _While you were at Stanford_ went unsaid, but Sam heard it anyway, and flushed a little.

"I know, it's just…" he pondered how to say it. _Whether_ to say it. He wasn't even sure he could articulate his sudden irrational overprotectiveness toward his sister.

"Is it Jess?" Dean asked, uncharacteristically gentle. "What you told me about Kate reminding you of her?"

Sam shook his head. "No, I don't think so. Maybe a little, but…"

Dad was missing. Kate had been hurt by that wendigo a few weeks back—her shoulder was still on the mend—and Sam was getting the horrible niggling feeling that none of the members of his family were as absolutely invincible as he'd always thought.

Obviously, he was smart enough to know, intellectually, that none of them were invulnerable; but deeper than that ran the foundational understanding that they would always be there, preventing the worst and keeping each other safe.

And that seemed to be falling apart from under him.

"But what?" Dean was asking.

"I don't know, man," Sam answered, frustrated with his own stupid fears and not knowing how to communicate them without sounding like a terrified twelve-year-old. "Guess the wendigo thing spooked me more than I thought. I just want her to be okay."

Dean paused, skeptical of Sam's answer, but the younger man wasn't about to say any more. Dean seemed to realize it, and clapped him on the shoulder. "She's just fine, Sammy. You know I'd never let anything happen to her. To either of you."

Sam nodded, forcing a grin for his brother's benefit and deliberately pulling his head back to the case. "So are you thinking lake monster on this one?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know yet, we don't really have enough information. The lack of a struggle is odd, though. Let's talk to the local cops first and get settled in, though. I'm starving."

* * *

Kate stepped out of the old Buick and smacked the top of it as she shut the door. A thank-you wave to the kind old man who'd given her a ride from Valentine, and she turned. The Carlton house was lovely, she thought, set in a pretty forest with a rugged view surrounding a pristine lake.

Not for the first time, Kate vaguely wondered what it would've been like to grow up in a place like this. She had only vague memories of her mom, but it would've been something indeed to have had a childhood with two parents and a little cabin on a lake. She and Dean would've sat and talked in that big tree over there, not about how to keep Sammy safe from skinchangers, but what they wanted to be when they grew up and Dean's girlfriend and Mom's homemade pie…

Shaking herself, Kate walked to the door.

Daydreams wouldn't bring her childhood back.

She adopted her Innocent Look as she knocked gently on the door to the cabin. A young man, maybe a couple years her junior (though she easily looked younger than he), opened the door. She caught the confusion on his face and smiled, careful to make it look a little forced.

Her best college friend had just died, after all.

"Can I help you?" Will Carlton asked politely.

"Yes, you're…Will?" she asked shyly. At his nod, she continued. "I thought so. Sophie has…_had_…pictures of you up in her dorm." A single tearful glance, and she had Will Carlton's attention.

"Who are you?" he asked, gently.

"Oh! God, I'm sorry," she said in a rush, still playing the Shy Card. "I'm Kate, I'm a friend of Sophie's from the University."

Will looked a bit confused. "But she's only been there for a semester."

"I know," Kate nodded. "But she was always…so kind to me. I thought of her as the sister I never had, even though we didn't….know each other for very long. I wanted to pay my respects, and…" she stuttered off, imagining the time Dean caught her with the captain of the debate team in tenth grade to bring on a light blush. "God, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come, I'll just…go."

Kate turned and walked down the drive, praying Will would react as she hoped he would.

_Four seconds._ Four seconds until he shouted after her, "Hey, wait!"

Kate stifled a grin and turned. Will motioned to her, a couple steps from the door. "Any friend of Soph's is welcome here. Come on in."

Sad smile in place, Kate went inside. "Thanks, Will."

The Carlton house was cozy, and Kate decided instantly she liked it. The furniture was well-worn, not fancy, with crocheted afghans thrown over the chair and couch back. Thin curtains hung over the windows, and the floor was simple wood planks, worn shiny by years of use. It looked…lived in, clean but inhabited. Kate smiled.

"Your home is lovely," she complimented. Will snorted a bit.

"It's nothing special," he answered. "Been in the family for years. More function than beauty."

Kate shook her head. "We moved a lot when I was growing up, and could never afford nice places, so…trust me, this is lovely. I can't even imagine living in the same place my whole life." A look crossed her face that wasn't even an act, one that Will seemed to respond to. He gave her a small smile.

"So what are you studying at university?"

"Oh," Kate snapped out of her reverie. "I'm pre-med. Even with all the moving, I always did well in school." Well, that part wasn't a lie. "Well enough that I got a full-ride at the end of senior year."

Will motioned to her to sit. "That's great, Kate. Sophie was planning to be a teacher. She always loved kids."

"I know," Kate smiled. "She was so great with them. She was really passionate about making a difference that way. It was one of the things I admired about her."

Will nodded, blinking quickly. Kate looked away, giving the young man a moment to recover. After a minute, she turned toward Will, a tentative expression on her face.

"Can I ask what happened?" she murmured. "To Sophie?"

Will shrugged, ducking his head. "Just what they said in the papers. She went out swimming and never came back."

"But she was a varsity swimmer," Kate protested, the lump in her throat shockingly real. The very raw, human aspect of these cases nearly always got to her, even after all these years of hunting. "Something else had to have happened, she wouldn't have just…drowned?"

Will swiped at a wayward tear. "I know, but…I don't know what it could've been. Even suicide doesn't make sense—they dragged the lake, and couldn't even find a body."

No body? Kate felt her heart rate spike. That meant this was definitely no accidental drowning, and Will was right—not a suicide, either.

"That's…impossible," she breathed.

"I know," Will agreed.

Kate pretended to think. "Well, have there ever been any legends or tales of weird things in the lake? Kind of like the Loch Ness Monster?"

Will cocked an eyebrow. "You think the Loch Ness Monster killed my sister?" Kate shook her head, a choked laugh escaping. "Of course not. But I do believe sometimes urban legends are based in truth and then exaggerated."

Will shrugged. "Well, whether I agree with that or not…there's nothing. Nothing that I've heard, and I grew up here."

Kate sighed. Damn.

"All right. Well…whatever it was, it's horrible. I'm going to miss Soph something fierce."

Will nodded, and they sat in silence for a few minutes. Kate thought quickly—the lack of urban legend didn't necessarily mean anything, it just made their job a little harder. She'd have to see what Sam and Dean found out from the sheriff later, maybe help Sammy with some research.

"Hey," she broke the silence softly. "Do you know of a cheap motel around? I might stick around for a couple of days, if you don't mind. I know what it's like to lose a family member, and would like to help you and your dad out, if that's okay."

Will looked up, unexpected gratitude shining in his eyes. "Sometimes it's hard to do the most basic things," he confessed. "Cooking, cleaning, hell, getting out of bed is a chore. We'd…we'd be grateful. And…there's a guest room. No need to pay for a motel room, I know how it goes, broke college student and all."

Kate smiled, considering the offer. Staying would offer her a unique perspective on the Carlton family, plus give her the ability to protect them if this was some sort of weird family thing.

"All right," she agreed. "Thanks, Will."

He nodded. "You should come meet my dad. He probably won't say much—he's barely acknowledged anyone since…well, you know."

Kate put a hand on Will's arm, gently. "It's fine. I'd be happy to meet him."

Will nodded and led her outside, to the dock. Mr. Carlton sat quietly on a wooden bench, overlooking the lake that had claimed his daughter's life.

"Dad?" Will called softly when they reached his side. Mr. Carlton didn't respond, so Will continued a moment later. "Dad, this is Kate. She's a friend of Soph's. She's going to stay a few days and help us around the house, okay?"

Mr. Carlton's eyes slid to Kate for a few moments, then right back out to the lake. Kate cleared her throat, then said softly, "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Carlton. I'm so sorry for your loss."

After a moment, and no response from the older man, Will shrugged and turned to go, motioning Kate to follow. She moved to comply, when a quiet, bitter voice said from behind her, "Don't be sorry. I deserve this."

She turned back to Mr. Carlton. "No one deserves this," she murmured, and the tears that flooded her eyes were very real.

But Sophie's father was staring out at the lake again, unseeing, and the conversation was over. Kate sighed and stood, walking back to the house.

She needed to talk to her brothers.

* * *

_Wash._

_Wash._

_Pack._

_Oh god, definitely wash._

Dean tossed the smelly shirt into the pile for laundry as Sam caught him up on research. Turned out, there had been a total of nine unexplained drownings in Lake Manitoc in the last thirty-five years, no rumors or sightings of lake monsters, and besides Sophie Carlton, the latest victim was named…Christopher Barr.

Barr.

"Where have I heard that name before?" he asked, almost to himself. Sam, following Dean's train of thought effortlessly, clicked on another link which brought up an article about Christopher Barr's death.

Dean sat back on his heels, a few pieces clicking into place about the cute but silent kid in the sheriff's office, and his standoffish mother Andrea.

"Oh." The soft exclamation came from Sam. "Christopher Barr was Andrea's husband, Lucas's father. Apparently he took Lucas out swimming." Dean winced as he read ahead, though Sam continued. "Lucas was on a floating wooden platform when Chris drowned. Two hours before the kid got rescued."

"No wonder the kid was so freaked out," Dean muttered. "Watching one of your parents die isn't something you just get over."

He felt Sam's eyes on him, but before his brother could call him on the comment, Dean's phone rang. He pulled it out, checking the screen.

_Kate_.

He flipped open the phone and placed it on the table as he sat beside Sam. "Hey, you're on speaker," he answered.

"Hey boys," Kate's voice came through. "So I don't think I found out anything you didn't already know, except one thing."

"Yeah, we have news too. You go first," Sam answered, still looking at his screen.

"Apparently Bill Carlton thinks he deserves this," Kate said. "He wouldn't give me more than that—but it's either misplaced guilt, or…"

"Or not-so-misplaced guilt," Dean finished for her. "You thinking vengeful spirit or something?"

"I have no idea," Kate confessed. "But I'm not getting the lake monster vibe here."

"That makes two of us, er...three," Sam answered. "Get this: there've been other victims in the last thirty-five years. Nine of them. We have an eyewitness we're about to go chat with about it."

Dean snorted. "If we can get the kid to talk."

"It's a kid?" Kate cut in.

"Yeah, his dad was killed while they were on the lake about six months ago. Saw the whole thing. He's been pretty quiet since," Sam said.

Kate was quiet for a second, and Dean knew she was remembering the months after Mom's death, when Dean had refused to say a word to anyone.

"Don't you _dare_ force him," Kate said quietly.

"We won't," Dean assured her. He knew better than anyone the kind of damage that could do.

* * *

_It had been nearly three month since Mommy died, Dean was counting. Eighty-three days—he'd had to work hard to count that high, but Daddy had taught him all the way to a hundred before…that Night. After he got to a hundred days, he didn't know what he would do. He might have to ask Daddy, but….Daddy was so angry all the time now, Dean just wanted to stay quiet and take care of his brother and sister._

_Dean's stomach growled, and he wiggled in his seat. Daddy had been driving them somewhere since early that morning, stopping only for a small breakfast; Dean couldn't tell time yet, but he knew it must have been hours since then. But Daddy didn't seem to notice._

_Maybe he wasn't hungry._

_Little Sammy cooed from his seat between Dean and Katie. Dean picked up his stuffed bear and wiggled it just outside of Sammy's reach, secretly delighting in how the baby reached for it with a little toothless grin._

"_Daddy, Dee is hungry," Katie spoke up. Dean looked at her, willing his little sister to be quiet; Daddy hated it when she spoke for him. Katie was only trying to help, but Daddy still didn't like it._

_Daddy looked at Dean over the front seat of the 'Mpala. "If Dean is hungry, he can say so himself," Daddy growled._

_Dean shrunk back into the seat, sullen. He didn't want to say anything. Nothing seemed worth saying, didn't Daddy understand? Mommy was gone, and Dean just couldn't go on like nothing had happened._

"_Well _I'm_ hungry," Katie continued, seemingly oblivious to Daddy's mounting anger. Dean wished she would be quiet now._

_But if Dean had become quiet since Mommy died, Katie had become whiny. Dean suspected it was to keep Daddy's attention off him, since she never whined to Dean or any of the nice people Daddy left them with when he went hunting—only Daddy. And only when he was angry at Dean._

_It worked; Daddy growled at Katie next, telling her they'd stop when he decided so. As it turned out, Daddy didn't stop for a long time afterwards—it was almost getting dark—and he took the food into their motel room for the night. Daddy put out Katie's plate and then started feeding baby Sammy, who was grumpy at having had nothing to eat since breakfast except some mashed up bananas Dean had fed him in the car—carefully, so he didn't get the 'Mpala dirty._

_Dean sat fidgeting, looking at Daddy, confused. How come he didn't get a plate? Katie was eating away, and the burgers smelled so good, and Dean tried to bite back a whimper at his aching tummy._

_He didn't succeed._

_Daddy looked up at him. "Dean, are you hungry?" Dean nodded, and Daddy's eyes narrowed. "You can eat when you say please, son."_

_Dean blinked. But….he couldn't! Daddy didn't understand; he couldn't say it. The pain in his tummy wasn't nearly as bad as the pain in his chest Mommy's death had left behind…and that pain wouldn't let him say stuff._

_Katie had looked up from her food, sensing something wasn't right. Dean's eyes were wide as he stared at his father._

_He shook his head, and Daddy shrugged. "All right then, we'll save your burger for later."_

_Dean's eyes started to sting, he couldn't help it. He was so hungry, but he couldn't bring himself to say please. He just couldn't do it._

_Katie put her half-eaten burger down. "Daddy," she whined. "I'm not hungry anymore. Dean can finish mine!" She pushed the plate toward him, and Dean reached for it. Daddy's hand snatched the paper plate away before his fingers could reach it though._

_Dean whimpered, tears flowing freely down his cheeks now. Daddy knelt in front of him, his face a confusing mix of anger and pity. "Dean," he said tightly. "It's been three months, you have to stop this. I need you to be able to communicate to help take care of your brother and sister. You're acting like a baby, son, and we can't have that. Now just say please, and you can have the burger."_

_Dean shook his head, getting angry himself now. Why was Daddy doing this? They had been just fine without him saying words ever since that Night! He took care of Katie and Sammy without words! _

"_Daddy, you have to let Dee eat!" Katie's voice was touched with panic. "He'll starve!"_

"_He's not going to starve in twenty-four hours, Katharine," Daddy snarled. "Now sit down!"_

_Sammy started to cry, and Katie shrunk back, tears streaming down her cheeks. Now Dean was really mad; his job was to take care of the younger ones, how was he supposed to do that while Daddy was making them all sad?_

_Dean stood abruptly and pushed at his Daddy. The older man, balanced on his toes as he crouched, fell back onto his rear. Dean stomped past him and went to lay on the bed nearby._

"_Dean Patrick Winchester!" Daddy shouted as he stood. He crossed to the boy's prone form and yanked him upright by the shoulders. "How dare you, boy? You don't ever push me again, you hear?"_

_Dean slept on his belly for the first time that night, his rear too sore to lay on. _

_He also didn't speak for six more months._

* * *

A couple hours later, Will knocked softly on the door to the guest room. Kate put her laptop down and closed her journal where she'd been looking for any reference to a water demon or anything of that nature.

"Yeah?" she asked, opening the door. Will managed a smile. "I'm making some dinner—care to help?"

"Yeah, absolutely," she answered. "Let me just finish up here, okay? Be there in five."

Will nodded and walked off. She heard him puttering around in the kitchen after a few minutes as she stuffed her journal deep into her bag where there was no chance of anyone accidentally running across it. She slipped on a pair of flip flops and sauntered into the kitchen.

Will wasn't there, but there were a couple wet pieces of paper on the counter—the kind used to wrap fish. He was probably cleaning the fish in the garage or outside, then. Kate poked her head into the garage, calling "Will?"

A gurgle and thump met her call, and she raced inside, instantly alert. Turning the corner, she gasped and started forward.

Will's head was submerged in a sink full of murky water. The young man was struggling to get out, smacking the sides of the sink and kicking as he tried to pull his head up. Reaching him and slipping a little, Kate bashed into the side of the sink. Not slowing, she plunged her hands into the water, feeling for Will's forehead. She found it, and one hand on his shoulder, the other on his forehead, Kate pulled him up.

It was like trying to pull someone free of a trap, and his skin was slippery. She got him up far enough to take in a gasping breath before a gray hand reached up and yanked him back down by the hair.

"Oh no you don't," she growled, planting her feet and pulling as hard as she could. Between her strength and what was left of Will's, the man pulled free, both of them falling hard onto the concrete floor. Will turned over, spitting up lake water and coughing hard. Kate stood and watched the water drain from the sink quickly.

She reflected that it seemed pretty likely now they were dealing with a vengeful spirit.

After a moment, she knelt beside Will, who was still heaving breaths and throwing up on the floor. "Hey buddy," she rubbed his back gently. "You all right?"

He nodded, shivering under her hand. "All right then, come on," she pulled him up. "Let's get you inside and into something warm. Then you'll sit quietly with your dad while I get you guys some dinner, okay?"

"What….wha- was that?" Will asked, teeth chattering with shock as much as cold. Kate reminded herself to start up a nice fire in the fireplace. It would do both men good.

"I'm not sure," she answered shortly, uncertain whether she was going to need to break her cover with this one yet. He needed time to recover first, though.

She shoved Will into his bedroom with a towel. "Do NOT go near the shower or the sink," she instructed. "Dry off and change, then come into the den. I'll get a fire started."

All the ruckus had snapped Mr. Carlton out of his stupor. He stood just behind Kate, staring at his son, a look of abject horror on his face. Kate took him by the shoulders when Will shut his bedroom door, guiding the older man into the den.

"What happened?" he demanded, fighting her a little. Kate rubbed his biceps. "I'll talk to you both in a few minutes, all right? Will had a scare, but he's okay now. It's going to be all right, Mr. Carlson, just sit and relax for a minute."

"A scare? Did he almost drown? How?"

"The sink," she answered. "It was a…mishap. He's fine."

"Peter," the man whispered, almost to himself. Kate snapped to attention but kept fluffing pillows and tucking a blanket around the distraught father.

"Who?" she asked softly, searching Bill Carlton's face. He looked…tortured.

"Nobody," he whispered.

Will walked out then, in a dry t-shirt and sweatpants, rubbing his chest. Kate was willing to bet he was pretty sore. "Sit down," she forced a smile for him. "I'll get some hot soup on the stove, okay?"

Will took the blanket she offered him gratefully, his fingers grasping hers briefly. He held her gaze for a beat longer than strictly necessary.

"Be careful, Kate."

Her smile relaxed into something a bit more genuine. "I'll be fine, Will. Thanks."

Kate put a can of soup on to heat on low heat, then walked out onto the porch, pulling out her phone.

"Kate," Sammy answered. "Our eyewitness drew a picture of Bill Carlton's house, please tell me you're okay."

"I'm fine, but Will almost wasn't," Kate relayed the story quickly, facts only. When she finished, she heard Sam let out a long sigh.

"Look," she continued. "I got two traumatized guys to take care of over here. But you guys need to keep your ears peeled for somebody named Peter. He has something to do with this, or so Bill thinks. And it's now killed his daughter and tried to kill his son, so…you know your thing, Sammy, but be careful, all right?"

"Of course," Sam answered. "You too. Don't let it get you, Katie."

She smiled a little. "I won't."

"And tell Will Carlton to keep his hands off!" she heard Dean shout as she hung up the phone. Kate laughed a little and went back inside to serve up the soup.

* * *

The next morning, Sam watched from the doorway as Dean spoke to Lucas, the little boy who'd watched his father die on the lake all those months ago and hadn't spoken a word since. The youngest Winchester didn't remember the months following their mother's death, but he knew that Dean had been through the same thing—Kate had told him once, though no details had been forthcoming.

Which was what made Dean's conversation with the little man so revealing to Sam, on a professional as well as personal level.

"You're scared. It's okay," Dean was saying, his voice gentle, the way it used to be with Sam when he was young. He'd fallen asleep to that voice telling bedtime stories more times than either of them cared to admit. "I understand. See, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared, too. I didn't feel like talking, just like you. But see, my mom—I know she wanted me to be brave."

Sam blinked stinging eyes. He didn't stop to think about his older siblings' loss very often—it was such a touchy subject. But it was moments like this he wondered just how deep that loss ran, how wrenching that pain had been, how much it still affected them to this day.

Dean was finishing up with Lucas. "I think about that every day. And I do my best to be brave. And maybe, your dad wants you to be brave too." Lucas dropped his crayon, eyes lifting to meet Dean's. Sam's breath caught at the connection there, strong enough it was nearly palpable. The boy handed Dean another picture.

"Thank you, Lucas," Dean whispered. He stood and came over to Sam, working hard to cover the vulnerability in his eyes. Sam looked away, giving him space.

They took off in the Impala, Sam studying the picture as Dean drove. "Andrea said the kid never drew like that till his dad died," Dean said, breaking the silence.

"There are cases in which going through a traumatic experience could make people more sensitive to premonitions, psychic tendencies," Sam agreed.

Dean looked interested. "So whatever's out there, what if Lucas is tapping into it somehow? I mean, it's only a matter of time before somebody else drowns, so if you got a better lead, please…" Sam shook his head, answering, "all right, we got another house to find."

Dean scoffed. "The only problem is there's about a thousand yellow two-stories in this county alone."

"Perhaps," Sam conceded, "but see this church? I bet there's less than a thousand of _those_ around here."

Dean paused, something that Sam almost recognized as pride flashing across his features, quickly banished. "Oh, College Boy thinks he's so smart," he snarked. Sam smiled briefly.

"You know, um," he started. "What you said about Mom...you never told me that before."

Dean almost visibly winced. "It's no big deal," he said, trying to play it off.

Sam just stared at him.

Dean looked over a minute later, his signature wise-ass attitude firmly in place. "Oh God, we're not gonna have to hug or anything, are we?" he asked.

Sam understood that was all he'd get from Dean on the subject.

_At least today._

* * *

Kate reflected as she put together some lunch, that she'd gotten off pretty easily with the Carlton men. Will had fallen asleep right after dinner and slept most of the morning; while his father, after the initial terror had worn off, had slipped back into the apathy that he'd exhibited since Sophie's death. Which was how Kate's cover as Sophie's mourning and confused friend had held in spite of her hunter-like actions last night.

She smiled as she spread mayo on a sandwich and jumped when her phone rang loudly. It was Sammy, so she answered.

"Peter Sweeney," Sam didn't even give her time to say hello. "Bill Carlton may have killed Peter Sweeney. Kate, don't let the man near the water."

"Relax," Kate said quietly, moving toward the den where she'd left the men. "I've kept them away from the water since last night's incident, just to be safe. They're fine, they're in the—"

She shut up when she noticed Will dozing on the couch, Bill nowhere to be seen.

"Will!" she barked, and the young man startled awake, looking around. "Where's your dad?"

"Huh? I don't—I don't know…" Will stood shakily.

"Dammit," Kate cursed, turning and running outside, talking into her phone. "Get here quick, guys, I don't know where….oh shit."

"Kate?" Sam's voice called, but she had dropped her phone and was running toward the dock at full-tilt.

"Mr. Carlton!" Kate screamed at the man getting into his boat. "Mr. Carlton, come back!" He wasn't listening, though, just pushed off and started the motor.

"This is the only way to stop it all!" he called back to Kate. "Stay where you are!"

Will had come running at the noise, and ran straight past Kate as she slid to a halt on the dock. "Dad!" he shouted as he dove into the lake.

"Will!" Kate screamed, jumping in after him.

_Idiot is going to get himself killed yet,_ she thought, kicking toward him. Bill was standing in his boat, roaring at his son to get back up on the dock; but Will wasn't listening, swimming hard toward his father.

Kate doubled her efforts to reach him.

Will stopped short as his father's boat seemed to hit a wall, exploding and overturning a few hundred yards away.

"DAD!" Kate heard him scream, but there was no time to let him mourn.

Not until he was safe.

Kate hooked an arm around the panicking son and started toward shore. She was relieved to see her brothers had arrived and were standing on the dock, ready to help when she handed Will off to them. Both boys lifted Will out of the water, and Sam reached back down to give Kate a hand up.

She reached for him, holding back a smile of relief—had to maintain her cover—when something yanked her ankle and water closed over her head.

Kate didn't have time to scream; a freezing grip climbed her legs, her waist, and stopped at her shoulders. It held her there, despite her struggling. She kicked, punched, writhed…nothing worked.

_Stop interfering_, a sinister voice whispered in her ear after what seemed like ages. _Or I'll take you and your brothers next._

Then she was free and paddling for the surface. She broke it with a gasp, several pairs of hands—warm hands—pulled her up onto the dock, shuddering and coughing. Kate collapsed onto the wood dock, tears mingling with lake water on her face.

Sammy was holding her tightly against his side, she could smell him, feel the heat of him seeping into her quivering muscles. Dean had disappeared from beside her, she guessed to deal with Will, and Sam was murmuring to her, "Come on Katie, you're okay now, we got you. It's okay now, I'm right here."

"No," she gasped. "No, it's not over."

Her little brother squeezed her closer. "What do you mean? What happened?"

"The ghost," she whimpered, hating how terrified she sounded. "It's definitely a ghost. It told me to stop interfering or it was coming for us next."

Sam stiffened. Kate knew what he was thinking—threatening any Winchester was a really lousy idea; you tended to end up on the wrong end of a gun that way. Or iron knife. Or whatever.

"I'm okay," she whispered, forcing herself to breathe slowly, to recover. She was fine, she was. Honest.

"Yeah well, since you're currently Kate-the-college-student, not Kate-the-fearless-hunter," Sammy began, lifting her into his arms. "I expect you to let me get you back to the house."

Kate just nodded, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders and trying not to be too obvious about how comforting her younger brother's embrace, disguised as a Wildlife Serviceman carrying a nearly-drowned college girl to safety, really was.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Kate!

A/N: Hey everybody! So we're departing from the episodic, follow-the-script approach here; things are about to get interesting. I anticipate this particular portion of the storyline will take between two and three chapters to cover properly. Also, you can expect to start seeing updates more regularly from me; I intend to post a new chapter for this story every Friday from here on out!

Without further ado—enjoy!

* * *

The next twenty-four hours were pretty wild, even for the Winchesters. Dean and Sam got kicked out of town after Sheriff Devins realized they weren't really Wildlife Service; luckily, Kate's cover was still intact, so she remained. It almost hadn't mattered, though, she reflected bitterly later—she'd been at the Carlton place trying to figure out her next move when Dean had called in a panic (or as close to panic as she ever saw him get), barking at her to get her half-drowned rear over to Andrea Barr's place—the mother of the little boy who'd been their witness. Kate had convinced Will to drive her over there, arriving just as her brothers did. Together, they'd managed to save the woman from drowning in her own bathtub.

The next morning the whole mystery had become clear—Bill Carlton and Jake Devins had been bullying young Peter Sweeney when he'd accidentally drowned in Lake Manitoc over thirty years prior; and now his ghost was haunting the place, aiming to kill off all Bill and Jake's loved ones before the Lake was drained. When Peter's ghost had gotten hold of young Lucas, Jake had ended up sacrificing his own life for the child's—a fact that Kate knew ate at all three Winchesters.

It never settled well with any of them when someone died on their watch.

Nevertheless, Lucas had begun talking again just before they left, despite the trauma of that morning; and Dean had gotten a kiss from pretty Andrea out of the deal, so it was with high spirits that the siblings had rented a room several hours outside of Lake Manitoc and settled in for the evening. Beers and burgers had rounded out the evening, and Kate had fallen asleep against Dean's shoulder on the lumpy motel room couch while the boys talked softly.

She only half-woke when Dean went to rise from the couch later that night, shifting her off him and starting to lay her down. Kate grunted a complaint as she sat up groggily, prompting a sleepy grin from her oldest brother and a snort of amusement from her younger.

"Shuddup, you lot," she growled, stumbling to her feet and over to the bed under the window. Dean protested—he always took the bed closest to the door—but Kate waved him off, burying her head in the thin pillow and falling back asleep instantly.

She woke up the next morning when Sammy left the room, the cool air and gray light of morning filtering through her dreams and pulling her toward consciousness. Kate opened her eyes to see Dean sleeping heavily on the other bed—the one closest to the door—and she had to stifle a laugh.

The jerk had moved her after she fell asleep, refusing to admit defeat.

Kate grinned as she walked into the bathroom, secretly pleased at his protectiveness, necessary or not.

* * *

"Can we talk in person?" Jerry's voice was flat in the phone speaker. Dean gave Sam a meaningful look; and the younger man stood, crossing the room to start packing and passing Kate as she came out of the bathroom. Sammy muttered something to her, and she nodded and tossed him a smile as she threw yesterday's clothes into her duffle.

"Sure, Jerry, we'll head up that way immediately," he answered.

"Hey, thanks man, I really appreciate it."

"Yeah, later." Dean hung up and spoke to the room at large. "Remember Jerry Panowski?"

"The dude with the poltergeist up in Pennsylvania a couple years back?" Kate looked up, and Dean nodded.

"That's the one. He thinks he's got something worse going now. Wouldn't say much else."

"Yikes."

"Well I got breakfast to go," Sam supplied with a shake of the greasy bag, "so we can leave whenever."

"I'm ready," Kate announced. "I'll go pack up the car." Dean stood and stretched, catching Kate's whispered "well played, jerk," as she passed him.

He grinned. "Idiot," he muttered back.

Dean turned back to his own packing as Kate's phone rang behind him. She stopped in the doorway to answer it.

"Hello? Oh hi, Liv!" His ears perked up at the mention of the stunning brunette with killer legs and an even more incredible intellect. Olivia Tucker was a walking encyclopedia of lore and history, making even Sammy look like a dunce cap in comparison. She was several years Dean's senior, and had been one of the Winchesters' primary sources of information since they'd met her when the kids were just teenagers and she was relatively new to hunting.

"How are…..huh?" Kate was saying. The smile she had been wearing had been replaced with a worried frown, and Dean stopped what he was doing, noting that Sam did the same across the room. "He…called you?"

Kate listened to whatever Liv was saying with a furrowed brow. There was a beat, and his sister's face hardened as she said into the phone, "I'm on my way. The cabin? Yeah, I can be there in…." she checked her watch. "….eight hours. Thanks, Liv."

"What?" Dean asked as Kate shut her phone with a sigh. Her eyes met his, and he knew instantly it was serious.

"Is it Dad?" Sam asked; his brilliant brain, as always, putting pieces together and extrapolating answers at lightning speed. Kate's nod was all Dean needed to see.

"I'll call Jerry back and tell him we're not coming," he said. "We'll just have to hope whatever he's got isn't—"

"—don't do that!" Kate interrupted. "It's…not like that. Dad's fine; or at least he was a few days ago when he called Liv."

Sam strode over to the door, his long legs covering the motel room in only a couple of steps. "Kate, we have to go; we gotta find him! And now we have a lead…"

"Listen to me," Kate said, shaking her head. "All she has is a little information, maybe a vague idea where he _might_ have been headed. I will go talk to her; _talk_, mind you. Then I will call you, and as soon as you finish with Jerry, we'll go find Dad together. It should only take a couple of days."

Sam was shaking his head, and seeing Dean's skepticism, Kate turned pleading eyes on him. "Please, Dean; Jerry could be in real trouble—"

"—so could Dad!" Sam exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "Dean—"

"Shut up, both of you!" he growled, trying to think. He knew what Liv had to offer was likely very little—otherwise Kate would be kicking them all out the door right this instant. But like Sam, his instincts screamed to go with her, to find Dad _now. _

Still, Jerry could really honestly be in danger…

"Sam, you and I will go see Jerry," he said finally. His younger brother glared, and Kate looked approving; but Dean wasn't done yet. He turned to Kate, levelling her with a look she knew not to screw with. "You," he pointed his finger at her, noting her eyes harden a bit—she hated it when he did that, but he needed her to know just how serious he was. "Stay in Ohio with Liv. Do _not_ go after Dad without us, no matter what she tells you. Understand?"

Kate nodded. "Of course."

Dean held her eyes for a moment longer, until he was convinced she meant the promise. Then he turned to Sam, who was very nearly sulking.

_Honestly, if he wasn't a grown man…._

"Look alive, Sammy; we got a monster to hunt." Dean folded Kate in a quick hug, whispering into her hair, "be careful, sis."

She squeezed and pulled away with a smile. "Just an information run, it's not even proper recon, Dean. I'll be fine."

Dean nodded and turned to walk out. He tried not to smile when he heard Sam order Kate to be safe and keep them informed.

"You know I will, Sam," she responded, and he could almost _hear_ her smile. "We will find him, okay? This is just another step along the road, is all. I'll call you when I get there."

Dean heard Sam's footsteps behind him moments later and turned to him with a nod.

"Let's go."

* * *

Kate studied the cars in the lot with a sigh of disgust. She really hated stealing cars; _really_ hated it. She didn't mind making money by winning at poker or gambling or even hustling pool—it was not her fault the men (it was usually men) she played against were bumbling fools—but stealing cars…there was no moral gray area there, and she despised outright stealing.

On the other hand, she thought as she selected a plain white sedan—not too old, not too new—she did always choose cars that were very likely to have good insurance; the kind of insurance that would replace a stolen vehicle completely. Hopefully nobody would be completely screwed by her necessity.

"Really should just get a car of my own," she muttered as she decoded the keypad on the door. The car unlocked with a click, and Kate settled in behind the wheel, hotwiring the engine inside ten seconds. She tossed her backpack into the seat beside her and eased out of the parking lot.

A little less than eight hours later, Kate pulled the stolen car over to the side of a nameless gravel road in some equally nameless forest just outside Portsmouth. She would have to walk or hitchhike from here; she didn't want to park a stolen car too close to Liv's safe house. She removed the plates and threw them in the trunk before shoving the vehicle into a thick tangle of brambles and brush a hundred yards off the road. After tossing a few loose branches over any remaining visible portions of it, Kate dusted her hands on her jeans and started south on the isolated road.

There were so few drivers out here in the middle of nowhere that Kate hiked all the way into Portsmouth on her own. She managed to catch a ride to Liv's from a sweet old man in the diner where she ate supper, and she slipped him a twenty when she got out of the car just outside the picturesque cabin.

Kate knocked twice, waited five seconds, and knocked three more times; the established code for a hunter's safe house. Olivia answered, brown eyes narrowed as she leveled a shotgun at Kate through the crack between the door and frame by way of greeting.

"Kate," she said, deadpan.

"Liv," the middle Winchester responded, hunting knife at the ready. The women regarded each other for nearly half a minute, wordlessly, just staring. Any monster impersonating one of them would be far too impatient to manage the exercise; so after about thirty seconds, Liv grinned and lowered her gun.

"How are you?" she asked as she swung the door open for Kate. "Come on in."

Kate stepped inside, hugging the older hunter in greeting. "I'm fine, we all are; Sammy's back on the road."

"So I heard. How's that going?"

Kate laughed a little. "It's taking a bit of adjustment; we have to learn to work together again. But it's like riding a bike, a bit—it's coming back to us." Her smile faded. "Except, of course, that none of us are really the same people we were four years ago."

Liv squeezed Kate's shoulder, and she shrugged. "Sammy's having the hardest time of all of us at the moment. His girlfriend's death was really…God, Liv, it gutted him."

"I'm not surprised. But he's back with you guys now, right? For good?"

"At least until we find whatever did it," Kate grimaced. "After that, I don't know. Pretty sure Sam doesn't know either at this point."

"Speaking of," Liv said, sinking comfortably into the leather couch in the front room. Kate stood, knowing she'd end up pacing by the time this conversation was over anyway. Liv looked at her steadily, something Kate couldn't identify in her eyes.

"What?" she asked finally, anxious. Liv blew out a breath.

"Your dad might be hunting a demon."


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Kate!

A/N: New chapter, on Friday, as promised! Special thanks to **What You See In The Shadows** for being my SPN writing buddy (you da man, man!), and **summerald** for providing perspective and being a kick-ass beta!

Now onto the story!

* * *

Jerry seemed genuinely happy to see them, Sam thought as he shook the man's hand in a large hangar outside of Kittanning, Pennsylvania. "Thanks for making the trip so quick," he said with a small smile. "I got something I want you guys to hear."

He led them into his office and shut the door. "I listened to this. And, well, it sounded like it was up your alley." He explained as the file loaded on his computer. "Normally I wouldn't have access to this. It's the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia flight 2485. It was one of ours."

The recording began to play, a panicked voice on the speakers. "Mayday! Mayday! Repeat! This is United Britannia 2485—immediate instruction help!" Then another voice, clearer and calmer—flight control, apparently, "United Britannia 2485, I copy your message." There was static, and then the cockpit again, "—may be experiencing some mechanical failure..."

Then a loud whooshing sound filled the speakers, followed by more static.

Jerry looked grim. "The flight took off from here, crashed about two hundred miles south. Now, they're saying mechanical failure. Cabin depressurized somehow, but nobody knows why. There were over a hundred people on board, and only seven got out alive." Sam winced. Jerry continued. "The pilot was one. His name is Chuck Lambert; a good friend of mine. Chuck is, uh...well, he's pretty broken up about it. Like it was his fault."

"But you don't think it was?" Sam asked.

Jerry shook his head. "No, I don't."

Sam nodded. "All right then. We're gonna need passenger manifests," he thought quickly, "um…a list of survivors."

"And is there any way we can take a look at the wreckage?" Dean added.

Jerry made a face. "The other stuff is no problem. But the wreckage...guys, the NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I've got that kind of clearance."

Dean frowned, thinking. "No problem," he said after a minute.

Later, sitting in the Impala, Sam thought that he hadn't known what his brother had been on about; but he had to admit, he hadn't expected fake _Homeland Security_ ID's.

"Dude," he remarked, taking the ID Dean handed him. It really _was_ well done. "This is pretty illegal, even for us."

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, well, it's something new, you know? People haven't seen it a thousand times. And it should get us in to see what we need to see."

"Yeah, and not a moment too soon," Sam remarked. "There's definitely EVP on the recording; listen to this." He hit play, and a scratchy, ghostly voice hissed over the speakers:

"No survivors."

* * *

Kate felt like there was no oxygen left in the room. Her throat spasmed convulsively, and she swallowed to prevent herself choking. "A _demon_?" her voice came out all wrong—panicky and shaking instead of the steady one she could usually maintain in the worst of situations.

Olivia seemed to understand, nodding sympathetically. "He was asking me about the lore behind them—where they come from, behavioral patterns, et cetera."

"And?"

Liv sighed. "And I'll tell you all about it tomorrow. You're exhausted, and it's late. I've made up the guest room for you; what say we call it a night, Kate?"

Kate nearly protested—demons were nothing to play games with. Vicious, brutal souls that were nothing but evil; most monsters the Winchesters hunted had a reason for their behavior—hunger, most often, or sometimes grief, pain, rage. Demons had none of that—just a sadistic desire to see pain inflicted on anyone but themselves.

Pure, unadulterated malice was all they could feel.

Worst of all, they were basically impossible to kill. If you could buy yourself a few seconds, an exorcism would send them back to hell; but _killing_? She'd never seen or heard of it being done at all.

Kate had (thankfully) never run into a demon in her admittedly-short life; but she'd never forget stumbling upon a hunter who had crossed a demon when she was a teenager, fairly new to the life of a hunter herself. The older man had been ripped to shreds, but his heart had still been beating when she found him. Slowly, and worst of all, _visibly_ in his shattered chest.

It was one of the few times in her life she'd panicked completely. Screaming, losing control, running-simply-out-of-primal-instinct level _panic_. Dean had found her almost half an hour later, cowering in a corner and barely conscious with horror; it had taken every big-brother skill in the book to coax her back to some semblance of normalcy after he carried her out of the warehouse himself.

Kate suppressed a shudder and nodded in response to Liv's question. A good night's sleep wouldn't go amiss—though she was unlikely to sleep at all knowing Dad was out there _hunting_ a freaking _demon_.

Why did it have to be demons?

Kate managed a small smile and "goodnight" to Liv as she tossed her duffle onto the bed, sitting down heavily in the easy chair by the window. She calmed herself deliberately, taking a few deep breaths against the pit in her stomach, letting the sight of the bright stars through the window soothe her fear before she called Dean. Noting the time—11:47 pm—she thought maybe she ought to just call tomorrow rather than deprive her brothers of a night of sleep also.

She snorted. What were the chances they were actually sleeping, anyway? They were probably knee-deep in research at this point. She hit the speed dial on Dean's number and waited, taking a breath.

The boys were not going to be happy about this. Not even a little bit.

"Heya Katie," Dean answered. She couldn't help but smile when she heard Sam in the background, "Hey, put it on speaker. Hi Kate!"

"Hey guys," she answered fondly. "How is Jerry?"

Dean snorted. "Shaken up."

"You'll never believe it," Sam piped up. "We think we might be hunting a demon, Katie. Sulfur at the scene, signs of possession, the whole nine yards."

_Oh god._ Kate put her head in her hands.

"Guess you're not the only ones, then." Yeah, so much for sleeping tonight. If the _boys_ were hunting a demon, and _Dad_ was hunting a demon, there was just no way she'd settle enough to rest.

Not a chance in hell.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean asked. "Kate, I told you to stay—"

"—Not me," she assured him. "Liv says she suspects Dad is hunting a demon."

There was silence on the other end for several seconds, and then she heard Sam's voice faintly ask Dean, "Alone?"

Silence again, then:

"Shit."

"Indeed," Kate agreed. Then she sighed. "You boys promise me you'll be safe? This entire thing gives me the creeps. Demons are…"

"It's okay, Kate," Dean's voice was deliberately soothing, in a way it seldom was.

Evidently, he was remembering the same situation she was; how terrified she'd been, how she'd thrown up everything in her stomach and then some before he could calm her, how white and shaky and clammy and unresponsive she had been.

"Yeah, well," she answered, only slightly defensive. "It had better be. You two better not get yourselves killed by this freak. I won't be avenging you on a demon. My loyalty only goes so far."

She heard twin chuckles on the other side of the line, and a small smile spread over her face.

"We'll be fine, Katie," Dean responded. "Just stay there, we'll meet you as soon as this is over. Probably day after tomorrow."

"All right," Kate agreed, though some bizarre feeling in her gut told her that wasn't how things were about to go down.

* * *

"Shit." It seemed to be the sentiment of the week, Dean thought as Jerry confirmed sulfur had been at the scene of yet another plane crash the next morning.

"Chuck's plane went down exactly forty minutes into the flight," Sam observed. "And get this: so did Flight 2485."

_Shit again. _

"Forty minutes? What does that mean?" Jerry asked, looking confused.

"It's Biblical numerology," Dean supplied. "You know Noah's ark, it rained for forty days. The number means death."

"I went back," Sam continued, on a roll now. "There have been six plane crashes over the last decade that went down exactly forty minutes in."

"Any survivors?" Dean asked, dreading the answer. He wasn't surprised when Sam shook his head. "No. Not until now, at least. Not until Flight 2485, for some reason. Remember what we heard on the cockpit voice recording, just before the plane crashed?"

Dean nodded. "'No survivors.' It's going after the ones that made it out of the crash. It's trying to finish the job."

"Damn," Sam said. "All right, I'll start calling people. Keep them off of airplanes until we take care of this."

"Go after the stewardess who survived first. Amanda Walker. She'll likely be the first one back on a flight."

Sam nodded and pulled out his phone.

It took a few hours, but eventually Sam had called all of the survivors and, under the guise of an airline survey, determined that no one intended to be flying for a while.

No one, that is, except Amanda.

"Her sister Karen said her flight takes off from Indianapolis at eight pm," he told Dean. "It's her first night back on the job."

His brother snorted. "That sounds like just our luck."

"Uh Dean, this is a five-hour drive, man, even with you behind the wheel," Sam stated the obvious.

"Call Amanda's cellphone again," Dean stalled. "See if we can't head her off at the pass."

"I already left her three voice messages. She must have turned her cellphone off." Sam sighed. "God, we're never gonna make it."

Dean's narrowed his eyes. "We'll make it."

_We have to._

* * *

Kate was getting impatient. She and Liv had spent the entire day cleaning weapons, practicing hand-to-hand combat, shopping for supplies…by midafternoon, Liv had been stalling since breakfast on the conversation she'd come here to have. It wasn't at all like her friend, and Kate couldn't figure it out. Instead, they had talked at length most of the day about Dean and Sammy and even Dad.

Something wasn't _right_. Liv was her friend, it was hardly odd for Kate to confide in the woman; but she was seldom this outright curious. Hunters, as a rule, generally weren't; caution and reservation were the standard, and hunters respected that in each other same as they expected it to be respected in themselves. Personal questions—especially as many as Liv had been asking today—were usually met with a stony glare, at best, and a knife to the throat at worst.

Finally, when Liv suggested they call in pizza for supper and asked what she wanted on hers, Kate had had it.

"Shut up and sit down," she ordered, snatching the phone from the older hunter's hand and slamming it down on the end table. Olivia looked at her, rage and surprise vying for dominance in her gaze. "Please," Kate added, as an afterthought.

Liv sat, and Kate leaned against the wall next to the window. "Now tell me what you told my dad. I need to know, Liv. We have to find him."

Liv sighed, giving in finally. "Well, he called me from Minneapolis a few days ago, wanting to know about demons." Kate nodded, nose twitching as some random nasty scent blew through the open window from the forest outside.

_Ugh._

"I told him the basics," Liv continued. "Demons are hell's minions, they look like a cloud of black smoke, possess human hosts and use up their bodies, usually so the original soul cannot survive once the demon leaves."

Kate shuddered, leaning on the wooden windowsill. It was dusty, and she drew her hand away, making to brush it on her jeans, when the dust caught her eye. It was yellow—odd enough—but it also smelled awful, pungent and acrid.

Like _sulfur_.

"I would tell you more, but it'd do you no good."

Kate turned back. "What?"

She gasped to find Liv right up in her face, a feral smile lighting her features. The other huntress's eyes turned deep black, and Kate's hand went instantly to her knife. She never made it, an invisible force slamming her hard against the wood wall, her hands pinned to her sides, her heart beating loudly in her ears.

_Shit shit shit…_

"Aww, look at little Katie Winchester," the demon taunted. "All frightened for Daddy, and Dean, and Sammy, and pretty Olivia. But completely helpless _now_." It grinned. "Bit of a situation, don't you think?"


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Kate!

A/N: Posting a bit early this week; I managed to finish the chapter today, and just can't wait til Friday to share! I'll try to have the next one out on Friday, and then y'all will just get an extra chapter this week! Special thanks to **What You See In The Shadows**, **summerald**, and **Mayrem** for their reviews and support; y'all rock!

Cheers!

* * *

"Just try to relax," Sam murmured to Dean in what he hoped was a soothing tone as the plane Amanda was working tonight took off. They had reached the airport in time but had no luck stopping the flight attendant from boarding; so much to Dean's chagrin, Sam had bought them tickets and both men had just gotten on the plane. Sam really couldn't see any alternative, even though he hated putting Dean in a situation he legitimately _feared_.

"Just try to shut up," Dean growled back.

_Well, that clearly helped._

Sam settled back into his seat, determined not to rile Dean up any more than necessary. He needed his older brother's focus set on this one—demons were nothing to screw with, and he couldn't do this with Dean distracted.

But even with his resolve set to 'Let Dean Be,' Sam couldn't resist a grin when he heard Dean's voice beside him and recognized the tune.

"You're humming Metallica?" he asked, trying desperately to keep the amusement out of his voice.

"Calms me down," Dean responded tightly, as the plane shook almost imperceptibly—a tiny bit of turbulence. Sam felt a pang of sympathy for his brother, and pulled the one card he knew would get Dean to do anything—including temporarily forget his fear of flying.

"Look, man, I get that your nervous, okay? But I need you focused on this one. We got thirty-two minutes to find this thing, trap it, and perform a full-on exorcism; I can't do this alone."

As Sam knew he would, Dean took a breath and nodded. "Okay."

"All right, one step at a time," Sam said. "Who is it possessing?"

"It's usually gonna be somebody with some sort of weakness," Dean rattled off the answer as though he was being quizzed in school. "You know, a chink in the armor that the demon can worm through; somebody with an addiction or some sort of emotional distress."

"Well, this is Amanda's first flight after the crash," Sam guessed. "If I were her, I'd be pretty messed up."

It took Dean almost five minutes to determine that the flight attendant was very definitely not possessed.

It took another three for Sam to tell Dean about the exorcism they were going to use—a powerful one that would send the monster back to Hell for good—and six for both men to make a sweep of the plane with the EMF meter, checking for any spikes or clues as to who might be playing host to a demon at the moment. He got a bunch of weird looks from unsuspecting passengers, but nothing out of the ordinary.

Sam met up with Dean near the rear of the plane. "Anything?" he asked.

"Nothing," his brother replied. "How much time do we have?"

"About fifteen minutes," Sam answered worriedly. "Maybe we missed someone."

"Or maybe it's just not on the plane," Dean muttered, distractedly, looking down at the EMF meter as the copilot left the restroom and headed back toward the front. With a squeal, the meter spiked, and Dean looked up.

"Christo," he said firmly. The copilot turned back in response.

His eyes were black.

Four minutes later, Sam and Dean pulled Amanda to the back of the plane. Two minutes after that, they had convinced her something very _not_ normal was going on here. It took the stoic flight attendant another three minutes to coax the copilot back to the curtained area where the boys awaited him.

"Yeah, what's the problem?" the copilot asked. Dean didn't give him a chance to react to their presence in the confined space; he punched the man and pinned him down.

Sam managed to convince Amanda to stand guard while Dean subdued the demon, and the youngest Winchester began reading the exorcism.

"_Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino—"_

The demon roared and broke free of Dean's grip, punching his brother and grabbing Sam by the collar.

"I know what happened to your girlfriend! She must have died screaming! Even now, she's burning!" it shrieked. Dean tackled the monster from behind, cuffing it on the head hard enough to hold it for a moment.

_Jess…._

"Sam!" Dean's voice was far away and vague while Sam felt his heart break anew. His brother's green eyes met his hazel ones. "Sam!"

Sam snapped back to the moment with a start, finishing the first half of the exorcism as quickly as he could read aloud, getting Dad's journal kicked from his hands in the process. A cloud of black smoke streamed from the copilot's mouth and entered one of the vents, disappearing.

"It's in the plane," Dean panted. "Hurry up, we've got to finish it!"

Sam dove for the journal, just as the plane tipped unnaturally, dangerously. People screamed from all sides, and Sam felt his back collide with something as he reached desperately for the leather book.

_Almost…there…._

After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a few seconds in reality, Sam's fingertips brushed the journal. Somehow, he managed to grab it and flip to the right page. He practically screamed the rest of the exorcism—the part to send the demon back to Hell—and an electrical charge ran through the entire plane at his words.

There was an unearthly screech, and then the plane levelled out. People sighed in relief, called out to one another to find out if anyone was hurt; but Sam's eyes sought only Dean.

His brother was braced in the emergency doorway; face pale, eyes wide and searching—for him, if Sam didn't miss his guess—but _okay_. Dean's gaze found him a moment later, and relief shone bright, quickly masked.

Sam just smiled.

* * *

Kate stared wide-eyed at Liv's face, shocked at how easy it was to tell it wasn't her friend running the show in there, wondering how she hadn't seen it sooner.

"What's the matter?" the demon taunted. "Never seen a demon possessing your best friend before?"

Kate blinked, her shock morphing into rage as she took in the words coming from Liv's mouth, but not from _Liv_.

"Not so much, no," she growled, redoubling her efforts to escape the demon's hold. The creature laughed and the invisible force holding her tightened. Kate gasped as it pressed mercilessly against her ribs, making it hard to breathe.

"_Exorcizamus te, omnis immun_—" she began, calling up the Latin exorcisms Dad had forced all three of them to memorize as kids; but she was cut off when the pressure migrated from her chest to her throat, effectively shutting her up.

"Now, now," the demon laughed. "None of that, dear. I don't want to kill you, you're far too valuable. So let's try this again." The pressure was released, and Kate gasped and coughed, chest aching. Spots danced before her eyes as she wheezed, "Who are you and what do you want?"

"Ah, now we come to it," the response came. "My name is Phoebe, and I'm…well, you could consider me a broker, of sorts. I procure items of value and then sell them to the highest bidder." Liv's face smiled, and it sent a chill down Kate's spine. "And I must tell you, the Winchesters—the whole set—would bring in enough to keep me happy and out of hell for a good long time."

"Well isn't that unfortunate for you," Kate answered, furious. "Because you'll never get my whole family—they're too smart for that."

Phoebe laughed again. "Oh you poor child. And they said you were the intelligent one."

"You were sorely misinformed—"

"John Winchester is a positively legendary hunter, as I'm sure you're aware," the demon kept talking as if Kate hadn't said anything at all. "The man is simply unbeatable—outsmarting where he can't outmuscle—and he has quite the reputation amongst my colleagues. But he has exactly _one_ weakness, and you're it. You and your brothers are the only thing John will do _literally_ anything to keep safe." Phoebe stepped closer, her face scant inches from Kate's, and cocked an eyebrow, daring the girl to respond.

Kate refused to look away. "I won't let you hurt him," she growled through clenched teeth.

Phoebe snorted. "As if you have a choice."

Kate moved quickly, the demon too close to her face to be aware of what her right arm was doing. With a surge of strength, she managed to break the demon's hold on her wrist and landed a solid punch to her jaw. With a grunt, Phoebe went down, landing hard on her shoulder on the hardwood floor.

Kate didn't stop to watch. Freed by the demon's distraction, she dashed toward Liv's stash of guns by the door and grabbed a pistol she knew was loaded with consecrated bullets. She was pretty sure silver wouldn't stop the creature, but maybe it'd at least slow it down.

God, she _hoped_.

She barely had time to whirl about and fire—a spot of red bloomed dead center in the middle of Liv's chest—before the demon tackled her. Kate cried out as she landed on her back, her head smacking the wood hard enough to make her see stars, and Phoebe scored a punch of her own against Kate's temple.

The young woman lay, stunned, while the demon assessed the damage done to Liv's body with distaste.

"Shame," she muttered flippantly while Kate blinked hard below her. "I liked this suit. But it's no matter—I wasn't going to be wearing it long anyway." Phoebe looked back at the woman just coming to and beginning to struggle again. "Ah, there you are, dear. Welcome back." She took Kate's jaw in her hand roughly, forcing her to look her in the eye. "As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted, let me tell you what I'm going to do."

Kate thrust her hips up, throwing the demon straddling her forward and off balance. Phoebe slammed one hand down beside Kate's head to prevent her falling forward completely. It was only a second's worth of a chance, but Kate pressed her advantage, bringing her knees up in an attempt to get them between her and Phoebe to kick the demon off.

But the demon was impossibly fast; before Kate could manage it, she slammed her weight back down on the woman's belly and slapped her in the face.

"Stop. Interrupting. Me."

Kate growled. "Stop. Hitting. Me."

Phoebe's eyes narrowed. "I'm going to possess you. I'm going to get inside that pretty little head of yours, take control, and then I'm going to take you straight back to your brothers. I'll know everything you know, so they won't suspect a thing; and then I'm going to get you all in one room together, and oh no—" Phoebe adopted a sniveling, high voice. "Sweet little Katie is going to hold the entire family at gunpoint until my boss gets there and collects the set."

_No. No no no no…_

Kate somehow found it in her to scoff. "You really think that, do you? So you're ignorant as well as delusional; good to know—"

The demon didn't give her a chance to finish before black smoke poured from Liv's open mouth and into Kate's. She screamed, unable to shut her jaw to block the demon entrance.

Fire scorched her windpipe, her nerve endings sparking with agony and heart beating a wild tattoo in her chest. Kate tried to hold on, but it was difficult to tell what was real and was wasn't in the midst of the agony in her head and chest.

_Dean…Sammy…help…._

_Daddy…_

* * *

Sam was pretty quiet on the drive back to Kittanning to check in with Jerry. It took most of what was left of the night, so Dean expected the kid to get some sleep, but he never did; just stared out the window. Dean was pretty certain he saw a tear slide down Sammy's cheek once, though he said nothing.

He parked the Impala in front of their hotel room, but grabbed Sam's arm before he could open the passenger's side door.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked.

Sam blinked. Hesitated.

"Dean, it knew about Jessica."

Grief for his little brother stung Dean somewhere in the vicinity of his heart. "Sam," he answered. "These things read minds; they lie. All right? That's all that was."

Sam didn't look convinced, and Dean made a mental note to talk to Kate when they met her. She was so much better at the touchy-feely stuff than him.

"Yeah," Sam muttered, then opened the door and headed for the hotel room.

Dean sighed and followed.

Sam collapsed on the bed without any preamble as soon as Dean let them inside. The oldest Winchester knew he'd not be getting any sleep that night (well, _morning_); between defeating a demon and flying on an airplane, he was keyed up enough to keep him running for at least another eighteen hours. So he settled down with the bag of weapons he'd brought in from the Impala and set to cleaning the guns. It was mindless, physical work that would help him calm down after the night's excitement.

He'd been at it for only a couple of hours and was contemplating waking Sam so they could go say goodbye to Jerry when there was a knock at the hotel room door.

Sammy snorted awake, blinking blearily as Dean cocked the pistol he was holding—they weren't expecting company. Pressing the barrel of the gun against the door, Dean loosened the chain lock and opened it a couple inches.

Kate stood there—well, 'stood' was a liberal interpretation, Dean supposed. His sister was leaning heavily against the post supporting the railing nearby, dry heaving over the bushes. Her skin was gray in the early morning light, shining with a clammy sweat, and her hands shook as she brought them to her forehead and pushed her long blonde waves back. Her eyes met his as Dean pulled the door open, tucking the gun into his waistband as he stepped outside.

"Kate, what the hell?" he tried to growl, but more concern made its way into his tone than he intended. He heard Sam stumble to his feet inside, calling, "It's Kate? What's she doing here?"

But Katie's face wiped away any anger Dean felt, replacing it with cold fear as she sobbed out:

"Dean, help me."


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Kate!

A/N: Happy Friday everyone! Here is the next chapter, give you a bit of relief from that evil cliffie.

A bit.

Special thanks to **summerald** and **What You See In The Shadows** for all their help and support. **BubbleBobble**, you have the best username EVER, just so you know.

* * *

_Phoebe forced Kate's face into a grin as she stretched, working herself into her new suit slowly. The woman's spirit was quiet for now, rendered unconscious by the trauma of Phoebe's violent occupation of her body, so the demon took the opportunity to try things out; all limbs and extremities working properly, a pain in her head she healed quickly, and a quick suppression of Kate's last resounding thought—_Daddy_—and Phoebe decided she was quite comfortable._

_Standing, Phoebe looked down at the shell of her former suit—Olivia, the woman's name had been—bleeding out on her own living room rug. She smiled; she'd be sure Kate understood that it had been her own bullet that murdered her friend. The huntress had, until Kate shot her, been alive—trapped in her own head, but still kicking and screaming in the prison Phoebe had created for her. _

_Kate would react quite deliciously to that particular bit of—_

_Phoebe gasped as a flash of pain jolted through her. Kate's body went to her knees as Phoebe lost control of it momentarily, and the demon cursed filthily._

_What in all of creation had _that_ been?_

_Phoebe felt Kate's spirit stirring in the distant corner of her mind that she'd stuffed the Winchester girl into; and with her growing consciousness, the pain struck again, sharp and biting, _burning_._

_The demon felt a stab of confusion at the realization; she'd never experienced anything like this while possessing a body before—what was happening?_

Hello?_ Kate's voice boomed out in her mind, entirely too strong for Phoebe's comfort, though confused. _Who is…what the hell?

"_Shut up!" Phoebe screeched, bringing her power to bear on the girl's spirit, which was beginning to glow…_

What are you doing in-oh, hell no_, Kate's consciousness rose from her spot and began to walk toward Phoebe, brushing aside the shackles and bars that should have kept her locked away in the deepest recesses of her own head so the demon could maintain charge. _No, you are not getting control of this body.

"_You can't stop me!" Phoebe cackled; but even as she said it, she felt a punch of alarm. _

_Her command of Kate's limbs was wavering. She was on her hands and knees, both in Liv's den and inside Kate's head, vision switching confusedly between at the threadbare rug and the white neutral room that was the inside of the huntress's mind. Phoebe gasped, muscles twitching as though receiving conflicting orders at the same time…._

_Kate's rage rolled out from her brightening spirit, burning Phoebe's eyes and lungs. Her physical sight flickered as she lost her grip on the human eyes she'd intended to borrow._

Watch me.

_What was going on? No human could resist possession like this, certainly not a damaged, secretly terrified little wisp of a girl like Kate Winchester….Phoebe growled. She had possessed stronger souls and won without any effort at all, what was so special—_

_The demon screamed in agonized fury as Kate's spirit surrounded her, taking over her own body by force and burning Phoebe from the inside. She heard Kate's words in her chest, felt them vibrate in her core:_

Get out. And tell your boss to stay the hell away from my family.

_With that, Phoebe lost her grip entirely, howling as she was forcibly expelled from the body of Kate Winchester and dragged back down._

_Down, into the dark heat of that place she despised so very much._

_Azazel was going to be most displeased. The thought terrified the demon more even than whatever that Winchester bitch had just done, and she screeched in fear as fire consumed her._

* * *

Kate fought tears as Dean came to her, a hand slipping around her waist to support her weight. The overwhelming comfort of having his warmth pressed against her side clashed horrifically with the realization that _if_ she had been possessed and pretending to be sick, he would have invited her inside without even knowing it.

The thought made her dig in her heels just outside the threshold, prompting a confused look from her brothers. Sam stood in the doorway, ready to assist at the slightest provocation.

"Katie?" he asked, softly.

"Holy water," she gasped. "Test me, right now."

The boys looked confused, but Sam ran to comply while Kate braced herself against the doorframe.

"Kate, what's going on?" Dean demanded, a little harsher than was perhaps necessary. Kate didn't let it bother her—she knew her brothers, knew that fear often manifested itself as anger, and to be frank, she wasn't feeling so charitable herself.

"I'll tell you in a minute," she growled. "After you've proved I'm clean—"

She was interrupted by a splash of water on the arm that leaned on the doorframe. To her relief—because she harbored the smallest doubt that perhaps the demon had just migrated to her subconscious and might have been running the show from there—the water did nothing but drip harmlessly off her skin.

Before she could finish breathing a shaky sigh of relief, Dean and Sam had both taken her arms and were leading her inside, helping her over to a bed and sitting her down gently. Sammy stayed beside her, letting her lean into his solid frame, while Dean sat across from her on the other bed, knees mere inches from hers.

Kate tried to breathe deeply against the wave of nausea that swept over her again, struggling to pull air into her aching lungs and swallowing the sudden lump in her throat.

God, she felt awful.

"All right, out with it," Dean prompted. Kate raised her head to look him in the eye, black dots dancing across her vision.

"Demon," she rasped, and Sam tensed beside her. "It took Liv—" Kate's throat closed against the memory of Liv's rich brown eyes flashing depthless black, and she coughed. "Attacked me."

"How did you get away?" Sam asked, a little awed.

"I didn't," she answered, unable to prevent the tear that slipped down her cheek. She was stepping closer to a full-blown breakdown by the moment, she could feel it, and wasn't sure how to prevent it. "I tried to kill it, but all I had were silver bullets. Didn't even slow it down." She choked again at the memory.

Sam made the connection instantly. "Liv?"

Kate shook her head, jaw clenching to hold back the cry of anguish that bloomed in her chest. "I shot her in the chest, Sammy, I—" Kate coughed out a sob, and Sam put an arm around her. Kate took a gasping breath, determined to continue.

"Then the demon, it…it took me."

Dean leaned back, blinking in shock. Kate dropped her head, expecting Sammy's solid presence at her side to disappear any second—she felt so dirty, _sullied_; the demon had been the most evil thing she'd ever encountered, and its barbarous, vile thoughts had been blatantly visible to Kate while she fought it inside her own head.

That…._thing_ had been inside her, _part_ of her, and now her brothers knew it. She almost hoped they drew away—they shouldn't be too close to her, to the disgusting echoes of the monster that had been in her head.

But Sammy squeezed her closer instead; and Kate gasped in surprise and fear, standing abruptly and stumbling backward.

"Don't," she choked. "Stay away."

"Katie—" Sam beseeched, both boys standing and reaching for her. She jerked back, falling against the small table as dizziness assaulted her and her stomach rebelled again. Kate bent over, arms across her middle in a vain attempt to calm the spasms that racked her torso.

"No you don't, Kate, come on now," Dean was pulling her toward the bed again, and then she was sitting, head pressed against her shaking knees while she cried. Someone rubbed comforting circles into her back, and she was too tired, too scared, too sick to protest.

After she calmed a little, Sam spoke up, his voice gentler than she felt she deserved. "But we just tested you; you're clean. How did you get free of it?"

She sat up again, regretting the action as pain shot through her skull. "I don't know," she confessed. "I just…fought it. The demon. It was trying to take over my body and I just…said no."

Dean's eyebrows rose. "You just said no, and it…_left_?"

Kate coughed a laugh. "More like I said no and it was expelled forcibly, kicking and screaming." She groaned as she put her head down again. She _really_ needed to lie down. "And I've been violently ill ever since. Threw up everything in my belly hours ago. Nearly crashed the Jeep three times and barely made it here in one piece."

_Liv's_ Jeep, her brain reminded her unhelpfully, and Kate shuddered out a sob.

"All right," Dean said firmly. "We'll figure this out later. Come on, Katie, time for you to rest. Sammy—"

"I'm on it," Sam answered, standing. Kate knew the drill as well as the other two; Dean would stay with her while Sam made a supply run—Gatorade, broth, crackers, the standards for sick siblings. She felt Dean's hands on her shoulders, guiding her to lie on the lumpy hotel bed, removing her boots, laying a blanket over her. The warmth was almost instantaneous; she hadn't realized how chilled she was. The blanket was slightly scratchy and smelled like cheap detergent, and Kate sighed in relief as she recognized it; it was the wool one she always carried because hotel blankets were so threadbare and she had always been so susceptible to the cold. She was barely conscious enough to hear Sam leave the room and start up the Impala as Dean's hand went to her hair, combing it out of her face and over the pillow. He repeated the action, stroking gently, a gesture he'd used for years to relax her when she was terrified or sick.

"Shouldn't…touch me…" Kate mumbled, slipping toward the blessed abyss of unconsciousness quickly.

Dean's hand didn't stop brushing through the soft strands. "Shut up," he muttered tenderly.

"'m so…dirty," she whimpered, needing to say it before she passed out, fighting to remain alert. "Killed Liv…and the demon was…inside my _head_…D'n…"

"Hush," he soothed. "It wasn't your fault, you're not dirty. You expelled that son of a bitch, sweetheart. All on your own; who else could've done that, mm?" Dean's voice was low, warm. It lulled Kate into that sense of safety she always associated with her older brother, slowing her heart and calming the tension that radiated through her muscles. "You're my sister, and the very _opposite_ of evil. Now shut up and sleep."

His voice was the last thing Kate heard before darkness descended.

* * *

"I sent you to do one thing," Azazel snarled. "_One_ job, Phoebe. Possess the Winchester girl, that was all. How hard could it have been?"

The demon stood shaking, fear and rage battling for domination in her chest. _Oh_, she was in trouble.

"I _did_ possess her," she answered, almost pleading. Phoebe was not above begging if it meant less of a punishment when all was said and done. "She kicked me out."

Azazel laughed, a chilling sound that was more threat than actual amusement. "She _kicked_ you _out_? No human can resist possession, youngling. You've been a demon long enough to know that." His yellow eyes glowed with the promise of excruciating punishment, and Phoebe's heart dropped into her stomach. "Next time you want a lie to cover for your incompetency, at least come up with a plausible one, yes?"

"It's not a lie!" Phoebe screamed as two of Azazel's minions grabbed her, dragging her backward toward the door.

Toward the chamber.

Toward…_Him_.

"No, please! I'm not lying! She burned me, pushed me out; I don't know how!"

Azazel held up a hand, and the others stopped pulling Phoebe away. "_Burned_ you?" he asked softly, as if that mattered.

Phoebe nodded desperately. "Not like Hellfire, though, it was…different. I can't really describe it."

"What else?" her boss asked, turning back fully to face her. Phoebe blinked, trying to recall the details.

"Her mind; we were in a whitish room the moment she woke, rather than a setting more conducive to memory like most humans. It was almost as if she…_directed_ the encounter, if that makes sense. Bright and burning, that's all I really remember." Phoebe shuddered—it had been more painful than most of her encounters in Hell, if she was honest.

Which she wasn't, usually.

Azazel appeared thoughtful. "This is most interesting. _Disturbing_, really…" he fingered his chin. "Still, you were too weak to defeat a mere human, Phoebe. I cannot have such…_ineptitude_…among my ranks. Take her away."

Phoebe shrieked as the door opened. "No, please, not….._no_!"

She was thrown into a dark, cold room moments later. She could see nothing, feel only the chill in the blackness, but she could _hear_….

"Why Phoebe, you're back. So good to see you. I can't wait to pick up where we last left off." The Voice was smooth, soft, cloying.

Phoebe screamed.

* * *

He breathed a sigh of relief as the woman slept in the substandard bed, with her brother alert beside her, guarding her rest. Dean's actions were, of course, entirely unnecessary—he had been charged with the well-being of the Winchester siblings, and no true harm would befall them whilst he watched over, silent and invisible.

And while young Kate had never been in any real danger of possession—it was outright impossible, of course—it had not been easy to watch her struggle so.

But his orders had been clear; observe, protect, but _never_ interfere unless there was no other choice. Too much was at stake.

Still, he could not resist the temptation to reach down and press his fingers to her forehead as she whimpered through the beginning stages of a night terror. Kate quieted at his touch, relaxing into a dreamless sleep.

Nothing was to be gained by her suffering needlessly.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Kate!

A/N: Happy Friday, everyone! Bit of a talky chapter here, but don't worry—the action picks up again in the next few chapters. Special thanks to _summerald_ and _What You See In The Shadows_ for helping me get this chapter just right—it took a bit of wrestling, and that's no joke. Also thanks to _KungFuSchildi_ and _Mayrem_ for their lovely reviews; they're always so encouraging!

Onward!

* * *

_Just stay here, they said. It'll be fine, watch out for Charlie, attack anything that moves, we'll be perfectly safe, they said. You're still pretty weak on your pins; just stay, they said._

The entire Bloody Mary case was eating at Kate as she sat in the dark hotel room, alert for any signs of danger. The idea of a chick who liquefied your brain through a mirror—or anything reflective, really—if she determined you were guilty of a secret that got someone killed (directly or not) was especially worrisome for any hunter, and both her brothers were planning to deliberately draw the spirit's attention in order to defeat her.

Necessary or not, Kate was not happy about it. _Especially_ since she'd been left behind—both to help watch over Mary's latest target, a young blonde named Charlie, and because Kate herself wasn't quite back to one-hundred percent after the whole demon possession thing.

They'd been separated on hunts in the past, left one another back because of injuries or separate mission objectives; but it didn't mean she had to like it.

And when her brothers stumbled into the hotel room, supporting one another, faces pale and bloody, Kate wanted to throttle them both. Charlie gasped while Kate stood quickly, holding still just long enough to shake off the lingering dizziness that still plagued her.

"What happened?" she demanded. Sam gave her a shaky smile, Dean didn't bother.

"Freakin' spirit was a real bitch to put down," he growled. "Almost got us both."

"But you killed her?" Charlie asked, shakily. Dean nodded.

Kate ran a rough washcloth under the faucet, then crossed the room to where her brothers were sitting on the bed beside each other; tentatively, as if they ached all over. Sam rubbed at his eyes, and Kate slapped his hand away.

"Stop that," she ordered, bending over him and wiping gently at the blood on his face. "Are you hurt?"

"Not permanently," he answered, and she gave him a face that communicated her exact feelings on that subject. Her giant of a little brother smiled.

"Small favors," she muttered, checking him over for other injuries as soon as his face was clean. Sam sat still, not protesting, eyes closed and breathing steady.

Dean wasn't so easy. He fussed when Kate moved to help him, swatting at her arms. "I'm fine, Katie," he croaked, in a tone she recognized as exhausted. "I just have a massive headache, is all."

"Shut up," Kate snapped with no real heat. "You didn't sleep last night, and I've no doubt you took a beating at that antique store. Now stay still and let me make sure you're all right."

"'M fine," Dean muttered, petulantly.

He was definitely done in.

By the time Kate had finished bandaging up a bad cut on his palm (broken glass, she guessed), both boys were snoring softly, slumped against the headboard, Sam's head dropping toward Dean's shoulder. Kate stood back and spared a grin at the two of them before turning to Charlie.

"Come on, let's get you home. You're safe now."

Charlie nodded, still wide-eyed, and gathered her sweater around her shoulders. She hesitated by the door, looking back at her sleeping rescuers.

"Will you thank them for me?" she asked. Kate smiled, an arm around the girl's shoulder.

"You can thank them yourself when they insist on coming to check on you tomorrow morning before we leave town," she answered. Charlie smiled a little at that, and the girls left the hotel room quietly.

* * *

True to Kate's word, the boys wanted to stop by Charlie's place the next morning, and pleasant goodbyes were said on all sides. Sam took the girl by the shoulders before they left, feeling a sense of urgency he hadn't in a while, an almost-desperate need for Charlie to understand:

"Your boyfriend's death," he said softly, looking her in the eyes. "You really should try to forgive yourself. No matter what you did, you probably couldn't have stopped it. Sometimes bad things just happen."

Sam felt both Dean and Kate's eyes on him—he knew they knew; knew of his nightmares and how much he blamed himself for Jess's death, of the crippling guilt that threatened to choke him every day. He didn't care that they knew, and he didn't care that they thought he was giving Charlie advice he himself should follow.

They didn't know what he knew.

Jessica's death was his fault as much as if he'd set her afire himself.

One thing was for certain: Sam would not be ignoring his dreams anymore. Whatever the reason—and he had certainly racked his brain for a good reason why he seemed to be able to tell the future with his dreams—it was not something he could afford to disregard.

"Hey," Dean slapped Sam on the back as they made their way down Charlie's front drive. "It's good advice."

"Yeah?" Sam responded, as if he hadn't thought much about it. Instead, he smacked the roof of the Impala quickly, tossing a grin at Kate and calling, "Shotgun!" She stuck her tongue out at him playfully.

"And Sam?" Dean caught his arm before he could open the door. "Now that this is over, I want you to tell me what that secret is."

Kate stood behind Dean, all signs of amusement gone from her features, nodding. Sam sighed.

"Guys, you're my family and I'd die for you. But there are some things…some things I just have to keep to myself." Sam smiled gently. "Now come on, let's get out of this town."

Dean looked ready to protest, but Kate put a hand to his shoulder and opened the door to get in the car. Sam let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and pulled the handle of his own door.

He knew his siblings, and he wasn't deceived into thinking that was the end of it; it was just the end of the conversation for now.

He'd need to do better at hiding his inner turmoil.

* * *

"Dean? Earth to Deeeeaaannn," Kate waved her hand in front of Dean's face with a small smile. He snapped back to attention, his surroundings coming back into focus—the waitress setting down his food in front of him, the diner, the low hum of the lights, the jukebox playing quietly in the corner. It was late, close to closing time; but he'd been absolutely ravenous when they got their room for the night and announced he was going out for food. Sam had waved him off, already half-asleep, but Kate had tagged along, 'for company,' she said.

"Sorry," he apologized, flashing a smile at the middle-aged brunette who'd brought his burger and fries. She gave him a warm grin back and walked back to the kitchen. Dean turned back to Kate, who was nursing her hot coffee and smirking at him.

"What?" he asked, only a little defensive.

She just laughed. "Nothing. Just marveling at the power of whatever charm it is you possess."

Dean's grin turned wicked. "I'm just that sexy."

"Yeah, whatever."

"You asked."

"No, I didn't. I was just observing."

Dean laughed. "You're obviously not hungry," he motioned to her mug. "So why exactly did you come along?"

Kate shrugged. "Not sleepy, and I wanted some time with my big brother."

"Uh huh," Dean answered, not buying it. Not that it was so out of character for Kate to want to spend time with him or Sam, or even Dad; but he knew that look in her eyes. "What's on your mind, Katie?"

"Who said—?"

"There's something bothering you, I can tell. Now out with it."

Kate sighed. "You and your damned intuition." She fidgeted with her spoon for a moment. "It's the whole Bloody Mary situation."

Dean tensed. He figured he knew where this was going, and it was not going to be pleasant. But he kept his face passive. "Yeah, what about it?"

"You came back just as bloody as Sam," Kate said pointedly.

Sometimes he really hated his sister's observational skills.

Dean shifted a little in his seat, but met her gaze squarely. "Yes, I did. It shouldn't surprise you, in our line of work, that I'd have a secret that led to someone dying."

"I didn't say I was surprised," Kate countered. "More….concerned. I've been hunting with you for almost ten years now, Dean, and lived with you my whole life. The fact that something like that has happened to you—and if I know you, you're haunted by it—and I didn't know, or couldn't see, or haven't bothered to….it just worries me. Will you tell me?"

Dean considered. He'd been far too terrified to ever tell Dad, and Kate had been too young at the time, but now….

And hadn't he just asked Sam to tell his dirty secret earlier that very day?

"I was old enough to know better," he began, picking at his fries. "Remember that salt and burn in Ypsilanti, Michigan back several years ago, before I dropped out of school..." he paused to remember the ghost's name. "Karen Shilling? She was—"

"—the nurse who'd been murdered by her patient," Kate supplied. "I remember. But at first we thought it was that other lady who had died in the hospital fifty years prior…Victoria something?"

"Victoria Johnston, right," Dean answered. "That's the one. We were missing Sam's science fair to take care of it, remember?"

Kate's gaze darkened. There it was, Dean realized. Yeah, she remembered.

"I was livid," he continued, nodding. "Dad was being such a hard ass and I—well, both of us, really—wanted so badly to be there for him, he'd worked so hard on his project—"

"It was that electric motor he made out of a coil of wire and a battery, remember?" Kate smiled at the memory, and Dean chuckled a bit. "He was so damn proud of that thing."

"Yeah, he was. So when we burned Victoria's remains, Dad said we could go—if we left right then, we were only going to be late for the fair, rather than miss the entire thing."

"You blew off every stop sign between there and the school," Kate laughed.

Dean smiled, but this time it was a little forced. "It was selfish, really. I knew we weren't done. I just…_knew_…somehow, it wasn't over, we'd missed something. I didn't know what, but I knew burning Victoria's remains hadn't gotten rid of the vengeful spirit. It was the kind of feeling that would normally have me balk at leaving. But because _I_ didn't want to be there, because I felt like we _had_ to make it to Sam's fair, because I was thinking of my _own_ affairs rather than the hunt…"

"The spirit killed another victim before we were able to get back and finish it," Kate finished, sitting back in shock. Dean nodded, ears pink with shame.

"Never told anyone; Dad was already furious we'd missed it as it was; he would've tanned my hide, high schooler or not, if he found out I'd ignored my gut. And you…well, I knew how disappointed you would be in me, so I just…"

"Stop that," Kate said firmly. He looked back up to see her sitting forward, eyes earnest. "Dean. Have you forgotten that we were _losing_ Sam at the time? He was so sick of the hunting, the moving, the danger, the lies, all of it; we _both_ thought that if we missed one more event, if the hunting got in the way of the family one more time, we were going to come home to an empty hotel room, Dean. The kid was basically a flight risk. And we both knew he wasn't skilled enough to stay alive out there all alone. Not at fourteen."

Dean looked vaguely horrified at the mere memory, and Kate pressed on. "It may have been a decision that _indirectly_ led to a man's death—but you were, what, seventeen? Eighteen?" Dean shrugged. It didn't really matter. "That choice—family or some stranger's life—it's one that would be hard even _now_; and you were just a kid then." When Dean shook his head, opening his mouth to argue, Kate huffed. "I swear, it's one of your biggest faults. You _never_ give yourself a break. You never allow yourself to fail, Dean."

Dean looked up, suddenly angry. "Lives depend on our not failing, Kate! We don't get the _luxury_ of making bad decisions, of being immature, of screwing up!"

"Yes we do!" Kate countered, struggling to keep her voice down. "Aiming for success is all well and good, Dean, as is being great at what you do—and you _are_. But it doesn't mean you should beat yourself up over every person you lose, every choice that goes bad—and don't lie to me, I know you _do_. Sometimes there's just no _right_ decision, Dean."

Dean didn't respond—he didn't really know how—just bit into another fry. Kate sat quietly, nursing her coffee. He studied her; she wasn't angry, just…emphatic and unwilling to back down. After a minute, Dean sighed.

"I know." His voice was soft, softer than he intended for it to be.

Kate reached over and squeezed his arm. "Yes, you do. You're just terrible at remembering it. And that's what I'm here for. Now eat your burger before they kick us out of this joint."

Dean cocked an eyebrow, and she smiled at him.

* * *

Kate sighed—half in contentment at the perfectly clear night, half in frustration at how stubborn her brothers could be—and put an arm around Dean's ribs as they left the diner, hugging him to her side.

_Love you, dumbass._

He chuckled a little and squeezed her close.

_Love you too, idiot._

They were nearly to their hotel room—the diner was practically next door—when something flashed at the corner of Kate's eye and a soft flutter sounded in her ear, like a fly too close to her head. She jerked her head to the right instinctively, hunter's eye sharp for something dangerous or evil, but there was nothing except an empty parking lot.

"Kate?" Dean asked, recognizing her body language.

"It's….nothing," she answered, hesitant. "Thought I saw something, but…there's nothing there."

Dean paused, then nodded. "We'll double check the salt lines before bed, just in case."

Kate nodded back, distracted. "Yeah."


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Kate!

A/N: Happy Friday everyone! Getting ready to gear up for a plot line I'm really excited to share here! Y'all enjoy!

Special thanks to _Mayrem_, _brandibuckeye_, and _KungFuSchildi_ for their reviews and messages. Shout out to _What You See In The Shadows_ for all his help with this chapter-also, his story _If I Knew Then What I Know Now_ is absolutely riveting-you should check it out!

* * *

"_Bugs, Katie?" Dean laughed from the driver's seat of the Impala. "Thought you grew out of that when you were, like, ten?"_

"_At least I'm afraid of a living, breathing creature rather than a hunk of metal and gas, oh Fearless One," she bit back, feeling oddly fuzzy. Was she dreaming?_

_He laughed, and his chuckle echoed from the seat beside him. Kate turned slightly, expecting to see Sam in his rightful place beside their brother. Instead, a second pair of Dean's green eyes stared back at her, the evil grin of the skinchanger they'd met a few weeks back firmly fixed on his face. Those eyes glinted silver as she watched, and Kate drew her boot knife and stabbed it in the neck._

"_Hey, not in the car!" Driver-Dean shouted, turning to stare at her. _

_His eyes were bleeding._

"_Dean…"_

"_Honestly, Kate, you know better." She jumped at the voice right next to her, turning to see John sitting behind the driver's seat._

"_Dad?"_

"_Why haven't you found me yet? You're not trying hard enough. I could be dead, for all you know."_

"_No—" Kate whispered, then spoke up. "No, you're not dead. You just talked to Bobby a week ago…"_

"_Much can happen in seven days." Now the passenger's seat was occupied by the old Native American man who'd told them about the curse on that mass grave where they'd been building a new housing community last week. "This you know, child. You must look harder, search further. The answer is before you."_

_Something flashed at the corner of Kate's eye, a bluish shape of light. She caught a glimpse of a silver blade, heard a flutter beside her ear, but saw nothing when she turned toward it._

"_What do you know about faith?" Now she was standing in a field beside a road, facing young Lori—the preacher's daughter who'd been the unwitting master of the Hook Man. "What do any of us know about faith?"_

_As she'd done when the girl asked her the question two weeks ago, Kate stepped forward and hugged her. "Only that it lends us strength when we have none, gives us a reason to keep going."_

_She looked up to see Sammy standing behind Lori, tears streaming down his face. "Kate, I'm sorry," he nearly sobbed, and she let go of the preacher's daughter to step close to him. _

"_What for?"_

"_I can't…" he began, then his eyes flashed black as night._

_Something tickled her leg, and Kate looked down to see an alarmingly large spider on her calf, hissing at her. She screamed and stumbled backward, landing hard on a wood floor and finding herself once again in the attic of the Pike home—the home built on cursed ground, with a biblical swarm of just about every creepy crawly known to man trying to get inside. Dean and Sam were dashing about, plugging holes almost as quickly as the termites were chewing them, while Larry Pike and his son swatted and sprayed any bees or locusts that made their way inside. _

_Kate felt the world close in around her, curling in on herself as another hole opened up right beside her and a swarm of bees and spiders made their way in before her brothers could stop them. She heard Sam shout her name, but couldn't answer before they were on her, biting and stinging while she struggled not to panic._

_A roaring filled her ears, just as it had that horrible moment in real life, and a commanding voice rang out:_

"_Be gone!"_

_The bugs scattered, and she had the impression of a bright light before—_

Kate hit the thin carpet of the hotel room hard and woke with white spots dancing before her eyes. She gasped for air, surprised to find her chest heaving and her skin covered in cold sweat. The sheets were tangled around her legs, yanked nearly off the bed when she fell, and they only tangled worse when a large shadow approached her and Kate struggled to free herself.

"Katie?"

She breathed a sigh of relief; it was only Dean. He must've heard her fall.

"'M fine." But her voice came out all wrong—weak and shaking, like her legs—and Dean reached for her. Kate let him smooth her hair back for a moment, then sat quietly as he helped her disentangle herself from the rough cotton sheets.

"Was it the bugs?" he asked quietly.

She shook her head. "Little bit of everything, actually." She was pleased to note her voice seemed to be under control again. "What time is it?"

Dean looked at his watch. "Nearly five."

"Think I'm going to go for a walk." Kate stood, pulling on her hoodie. "Help clear my head."

Her brother nodded. "Need company?"

"No, you should get some more sleep. You were still up when I went to bed at one, Dean; you need to get some rest."

He made a face. "Yeah, yeah. You okay?"

She nodded, opening the door and relishing the cool pre-dawn air on her face. It felt incredibly refreshing, and she breathed deeply. "I'll be back in a little while."

She walked briskly, letting the cold air fill her lungs and clean out the terror that still lingered in her chest. Kate knew her brain did a lot of sorting through things while she slept, and this had confirmed it—something was going on, and she didn't know just what yet. Something having to do with dad, and these flashes of light and sound she kept experiencing at the very edge of her senses, and whatever Sam had been hiding from her and Dean. It was somehow all connected.

And she was _going_ to find out how.

* * *

"And, here, a Sacramento man shot himself in the head. _Three times_." Dean waved his hand in front of Sam's face, a little miffed that he couldn't seem to focus on helping find their next case. "Any of this blowing up your skirt, pal?"

He hoped to get a chuckle, a grin even, from his younger brother. Sam just kept doodling whatever it was he'd been doodling since he woke half an hour ago.

Dean sighed. It had been a rough night—both his siblings had suffered nightmares, though neither of them wanted to talk about it. While he totally understood the sentiment, it was no less frustrating to know they were struggling to work through things and he couldn't help.

He despised feeling so useless.

Dean looked up as Kate walked in, cheeks a healthy pink from the cool morning air. She was toting coffees and a bag full of greasy breakfast goodness, and flashed him a smile he barely managed to return.

"Good morning, boys," she announced. Sam grunted in response, and Dean sniffed. "What'd you get?" he asked, taking the proffered coffee from his sister's hand.

"Wait," Sam muttered from the bed. "I've seen this before."

"Seen what?" Dean asked. Sam didn't answer, just got up and started rummaging through his duffel bag. Kate walked over to him, curiosity written all over her face. "What are you doing?" Dean stood.

Sam seemed to have located what he was looking for—a photo? He held it in his left hand, the doodle in his right, and both younger Winchesters bent their heads to study them. Dean nearly smiled at the sudden flash of memory—of a younger Kate helping a younger Sam with Algebra homework, huddled over a hotel room table just like that—until Kate gasped.

"Oh my god."

"What?" Dean asked, walking toward them, determined to figure out what was going on here. Sam turned back to him before he got there.

"Dean, I know where we have to go."

"Where?"

"Back home. Back to Kansas."

Dean blinked, swallowing at the way his heart thumped painfully at the idea. Forcing his voice to remain steady, he pasted a nonchalant look on his face. "Okay, random," he answered, gaze flicking to Kate, who looked stunned. "Where did this come from?"

"How did you…" Kate had found her voice, evidently. Sorta. "Sam, why did you draw this tree?"

Sam looked uncomfortable. "Okay, look, this is gonna sound crazy but….the people who live in our old house—I think they might be in danger."

Dean cocked his head. "Why would you think that?"

"It's just, um….look, just trust me on this, okay?" Sam turned and started stuffing things in his duffel. Kate shook her head, looking back to Dean with something akin to shock. Dean understood how she felt. "Wait…whoa, whoa…just, _'trust you'_? That's all you got?"

Sam glanced up, his expression guarded. "I can't really explain it, is all."

Dean sat down, and Kate followed his lead, planting themselves on the other bed and facing their youngest brother. "Well, tough. We're not going anywhere until you do." Sam stopped packing, turned to face his siblings. A dozen emotions flashed over his face, the prominent one being stubbornness.

Kate evidently saw it too, because she reached out, taking Sam's hand and guiding him to sit across from them. "Come on, Sammy," she said softly. "We need to know. It'll be okay, just tell us what's going on with you."

Sam paused, and Dean held his breath. He knew a confession was coming, knew that look on the kid's face.

It was almost a relief. He was sick of wondering and worrying himself crazy over this.

"I have these nightmares," Sam began, haltingly. Dean nodded.

"We've noticed."

Sam swallowed. "And sometimes….they come true."

_Um…what?_

"Come again?" Kate sounded confused, and Dean couldn't blame her. He was pretty sure this was not what he'd expected to hear from his baby brother, in the way of a confession.

Though he could see why it would cause the kid considerable confusion and guilt.

"Look," Sam hesitated, as if pushing forward with this was physically painful. "….I dreamt about Jessica's death…for _days_ before it happened."

Yup. That's where the guilt came from. Dean found himself searching frantically for an explanation. "Sam, people have weird dreams, man," he hastened to reassure his brother. "I'm sure it's just a coincidence."

Sammy shook his head. "No, you don't get it." He looked up, and Dean could've cried at the weight he saw in the kid's eyes. "I dreamt about the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, _everything_; and I didn't do anything about it 'cause I didn't believe it." Sam huffed a half-laugh, half-sigh. "And now I'm dreaming about that tree, about our house, and about some woman inside screaming for help. I mean, that's where it all started, man, this has to mean something, right?"

"I don't know," Dean heard himself say. He could barely absorb all this.

"Sam—"Kate piped up, but his youngest brother wasn't listening, looking desperately to Dean for answers. It was that same look he'd worn every time he asked what Dad really did for a living, when they were kids.

"What do you mean you don't know, Dean?" he pled. "This woman might be in danger. I mean, this might even be the thing that killed Mom and Jessica!"

Dean's head was spinning. "All right, just slow down, would you?" He stood, unable to stop himself pacing.

"Sam, did this ever happen before Jess?" Kate asked quietly. Sam shook his head. "But that doesn't matter now," he insisted. "We have to go back to our old house _now_. This woman…we can save her, Dean!"

Dean shook his head. "Come on, man, give me a minute. I mean, first you tell me that you've got the Shining? And then you tell me that I've gotta go back home? Especially when…." He stifled a shiver.

Sam softened, finally picking up on Dean's discomfort. "When what?"

"When I swore to myself that I would never go back there," he answered, softly.

"You don't have to," Kate answered, standing and placing a warm hand on his shoulder. He looked up, meeting soft blue eyes.

_Mom's eyes._ His heart hurt.

"What?"

"We'll go," Sam answered, standing too as he picked up on what their sister was getting at. "Kate's right. You don't have to go through this. We'll go check it out. Just to make sure. It'll take a couple days, tops, and then we'll keep looking for dad, okay?"

Dean considered for a moment, but then shook his head abruptly. "No. _No_."

"What?" Kate asked. "Dean, you don't have to—"

"Of course I do," he answered wearily. "If this is the thing that got Mom and Jessica? Or something equally horrific? I can't sit back and leave you two to deal with it alone just because I'm…" _terrified_, he almost said, but couldn't bring himself to say the word.

"We'll be fine," Kate assured. "There's no need to put yourself through this."

Dean shook his head. "No. I'm coming with you."

He knew it was the right decision when Sam couldn't hide his relief at the declaration.

His siblings needed him on this one, and he'd be damned if he was going to fail them. Not this time.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Kate!

A/N: Happy Friday, everyone! Don't forget to check out the accompanying collection of one-shots to this story, Come Whatever. You can find it on my profile.

Special thanks to **summerald** and **What You See In The Shadows** for all their help, and shout outs to **KungFuSchildi**, **brandibuckeye**, and **Donny Donowitz** for leaving awesome reviews! Y'all are fantastic folks!

Enjoy!

* * *

Kate stood in the doorway of the bedroom she and Dean had shared as children, staring at the spot under the window where her bed had been.

"_Hey Dean!" _

The room was darker than it had been—apparently it had been an adult's room, or a guest room, after they moved out. She remembered it being painted light blue, not the current drab gray.

_Her big brother looked up from his picture book. "What, Katie?" _

She crossed the room in three steps—it was smaller than she remembered, too—and parted the heavy curtains to look out the window. The view hadn't changed much; there was the huge tree next to the house, then the backyard to the right, a maze of residential streets further out.

_She thrust a pudgy hand at him. "Look what I founded outside!" Dean bounced upright and reached for his sister. He pulled her fingers open gently, eyes widening at the grasshopper in her palm._

Kate felt a small piece of her die as she turned back and looked at the room, just taking it all in. It was difficult to imagine that this place had been such a central part of her quiet, happy, _tiny_ world. Struck with a sudden curiosity, she crossed to the closet and pulled the door open. It creaked on its hinges.

"_Wow, cool!" Dean exclaimed. "Are you gonna—" His question was cut off with a small squeal as the insect jumped straight off Kate's hand toward his face. Kate giggled, and a mad chase ensued as the siblings tried desperately to recapture the hopping bug._

Kate blinked furiously and couldn't stop the tiny smile that tugged at her lips when she saw the back of the closet door hadn't been painted. It was still white—though dirty, yellowed now—and the two small columns of marks barely reached her thigh.

"_Dean? Katie?" the small children stopped running and jumping around, Kate with her hand covering her mouth as if to hold in a squeal of delight when Mommy's voice drifted up the stairs. "What are you two doing up there?" _

Kate knelt on the musty carpet, running her fingers slowly over the blue ink. One column was labelled "Katie", the other "Dean", and there were dates beside each small notch under their names.

"_Nothing!" Dean shouted back, and Katie's giggle escaped just as the grasshopper landed on her brother's leg. She pounced at it, but it escaped again, and all she accomplished was tackling Dean onto his bed instead. Her brother burst into laughter and dug his tiny fingers into her ribs. "I'll get you for that!"_

"Kate?" Dean's voice sounded tentative in a way it seldom was anymore, and she looked up to see him standing just inside the room. Wiping her eyes quickly, she forced a smile for him. "Look how tiny we were," she answered, forcing her voice to remain steady.

_Katie and Dean tumbled around on the bed, squealing and giggling and tickling, until a cleared throat from the doorway got their attention. Mommy stood there with Baby Sammy, smiling, as Kate's fingers stopped mere centimeters from Dean's sensitive neck. "What exactly is going on up here?" she asked, crossing the room to place Sam in the small bouncy seat in the corner. _

"_Katie brought in a—" Dean was cut off when his sister's fingers dug mercilessly into his skin and he couldn't stop a laugh from escaping._

Dean crouched beside her, green eyes wide with some emotion Kate couldn't describe, but understood completely. "Damn," he murmured, his voice husky. "Hard to even imagine being that size now." He let out a small gasp a moment later, though, and Kate asked quietly, "what?"

Her brother pointed to the date beside the tallest of the marks under his name.

_November 2, 1983._

Kate reached over and twisted her fingers in his sleeve, breathing slowly to hold back the sob that was suddenly stuck in her chest.

_Mommy grinned as she crossed to Dean's bed and the two screaming children mussing the sheets on it._

"_No no, Katie," she interrupted, and the little girl paused in her assault of Dean's ribs. "If you're going to tickle Dean Winchester, you have to tickle him where he's really, undeniably, helplessly ticklish." Dean's eyes widened, and he squealed, "No Mommy, please!" as her fingers deftly found the back of his right knee and dug gently._

_The scream of laughter Dean gave had Kate clapping her hands over her ears and giggling wildly. Mommy was laughing, and even Baby Sammy was screeching in delight from his bouncy seat._

_It was a perfect moment._

Dean stood, and Kate followed him out of the room. She didn't have to see his face to know he was carefully rearranging it to erase any sign of the emotional turmoil he was experiencing. "So Jenny was telling Sam and me about the house," he said softly, turning to her after a moment. "Apparently they're dealing with scratching in the walls, flickering lights, odd troubles with appliances and plumbing…sound familiar?"

Kate nodded, not trusting her voice yet. She hated this case already.

"Yeah, so…we're going to go get a room and settle in to work this one," Dean answered. Sam called them from the bottom of the stairs.

"Guys? Are you ready to go?"

"Coming," Kate called; but she hesitated, staring down the hall. Dean looked too, and let out a huff of air that sounded like he'd been punched in the gut when he realized what she saw:

They were standing in the exact spot where their lives had changes twenty-two years before, looking the same direction, even in the same positions they'd been that night. As she had then, Kate took two steps toward what had been the nursery.

Dean's hand closed round her wrist, and he drew her back toward him. Kate turned, stared at him questioningly.

"Don't do this to yourself, Katie," he murmured, pulling her toward the stairs. "Let's just go."

She hesitated, but then followed. She wasn't sure why she felt so drawn to this place, her childhood home, the place where her world had crashed down around her when she was barely old enough to remember it.

It had happened so long ago, and she had accepted it _so long ago_; why did she suddenly feel as though she was grasping for something…something that would make it all okay? Something that could bring back what they all lost that night? Some kind of resolution?

It was stupid, she knew. _Ridiculous_.

So she followed Dean down the stairs, just as she had so many times before they moved away, and tried to ignore the way it made her chest ache.

* * *

Sam could barely keep quiet until they got to the Impala before telling Dean and Kate about what he'd learned when Dean went upstairs looking for their sister.

"This is definitely our kind of thing," he began, noting how both his siblings tensed a bit at the tightly-controlled urgency in his voice. "The little girl, Sari? She said she saw something come out of her closet the other night."

He waited for some sort of response, but Dean dug for his keys and began unlocking the door, and Kate just stood there looking slightly shell-shocked.

"A figure on _fire_," Sam smacked Dean's shoulder to get his attention. "That, and the scratching, the flickering lights?"

"Is that the woman from your dream?" Dean asked, finally facing his little brother.

"Yeah," Sam answered. "There's definitely a malevolent spirit here, Dean."

"Yeah well, I'm more freaked out that your weirdo visions are coming true," Dean answered, agitated. Sam nearly ran to the other side of the car as his brother got in.

"Forget that for a second," he said, close to panic. "Do you think it's the thing that killed Mom and Jessica?"

"I don't—"

"Mom wasn't killed by a spirit," Kate interrupted, softly. Sam and Dean turned to see her looking confused, as though uncertain what had just come out of her mouth.

"What did you say?" Dean asked.

"Uh," Kate stuttered. "Well, I _said_ Mom wasn't killed by a spirit, but…I don't know why I said that. For all we know, she was."

Dean turned back forward, shifting into drive with more force than was perhaps normal, but Sam just stared at Kate. She looked….spooked.

"Something weird is going on here," Dean growled. "And I don't like it."

Sam shook his head and turned back to his brother. "But those people are in danger—we have to get them out of that house."

"How?" Dean snapped. "You got a story Jenny's going to believe, Sam?"

Sam forced some calm into his voice, hoping it would be contagious. Both his older siblings were on the verge of snapping, he could practically _smell_ the tension in the air. "Then what are we supposed to do?"

Dean pulled into a gas station, partly just out of habit; somewhere to get a drink, something to munch on, take a break. "We just gotta chill out," he answered, taking a deep breath. "If this was any other job, what would we do?"

"We'd ask around, dig into the history of the house."

"Exactly," Dean answered. "But this time, we already know what happened."

"Interviews," Kate piped up. Sam nodded. "Yeah, we need to ask around, find out everything we can about that night and the immediate aftermath." He eyed his older siblings. "You know that means you two first, right? You were there. What do you remember about it?"

"Not much," Dean answered, sliding his eyes away. Sam looked to Kate, but her gaze was fixed on their oldest brother. "I remember the fire, the heat. And then I carried you out the front door."

_Wait, what?_

"You did?" Sam asked, softly. God, if that was true, it explained so very much about his big brother…

"Yeah," Dean murmured, and a look at Kate's face verified it. "You never knew that?"

Sam shook his head. "And you, Kate?"

Kate paused. "I heard you scream," she answered after a minute. "In the hall, where Dean and I were standing. You screamed, and then Dad brought you out to us. He told us to run, and…we ran."

Sam didn't say anything; words somehow felt flippant, as though they'd simply profane the moment, this something…_elemental_ in his siblings. He understood now why they never talked about it.

He let the moment hang heavy in the air, but then asked tentatively, "did Dad have any theories? About what did it?"

"Demon," Kate rattled off, then clapped her hand over her mouth. "What the _hell_?"

"Do you know something you're not sharing, Kate?" Dean asked suspiciously. Her blue eyes narrowed. "Of course not, I don't know what's going on any more than you do, _Dean_. Just…something tells me it was a demon."

Dean paused, not taking his eyes off their sister. Sam's jaw clenched at the unspoken strain in the exchange. "Well until we see evidence of that," Dean continued, "we need to talk to Dad's old friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time."

Sam nodded, feeling a small rush of relief that they had a plan now. Still, this case…

"Does this feel like just another job to you guys?" he asked quietly.

Dean pushed himself off the back of the Impala abruptly. "I'll be right back, I gotta go to the bathroom." Sam watched him walk away, then turned back to his sister, who was staring at her shoes.

"Katie?" he scooted close enough to wrap an arm around her shoulders. "How are you holding up?"

Kate shivered. "Dean's having a harder time than he's letting on," she answered softly.

"I know."

"He needs us on this one."

"I know." Sam squeezed her shoulder. "But you didn't answer my question."

Kate looked up at him. "I'm okay. Dean needs me to be okay."

"Liar," Sam murmured. Kate was silent for a moment.

"I hate this job," she finally whispered. "That house…I go in there, and suddenly I'm that terrified three-year-old who lost her mom and nearly lost her baby brother to a fire that should never have happened. It's…I feel completely powerless."

Sam kissed her hair as, trembling, she pressed closer to him in a quiet display of vulnerability, letting him soothe the fears she was working so hard to hide. He was surprised she was allowing him to see her like this; she and Dean often found comfort with one another in these sorts of situations. Sam understood; they had been through all this together, both of them remembered the terror, the pain of that night and everything that had come after—he didn't.

But then, it was Kate; if Dean was hurting like they both knew he was, his older sister would do literally _anything_ to appear strong for him, give him a safe place to come for comfort and security—which meant letting Sam be her rock while she tried to be Dean's.

He almost laughed; they were such a mess, the three of them.

The moment was just that—a moment—before Kate let out a shaky breath, pulling away only slightly.

"Sorry," she muttered. Sam shook his head.

"It's all right. And you're not powerless." She lifted tired eyes to look at him, and he smiled. "Whether this is the thing that ruined our lives or not, we're going to beat it. Together, like we always do."

Kate's lips curved just a little, and Sam considered it a win.

Dean was back a few minutes later, pale and gruff as he pulled open his door.

"Let's go."


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Kate!

A/N: Whew, this was almost late!

_**Almost**_.

Happy Friday, everyone! Special thanks to _What You See In The Shadows_, _Guest_, _KungFuSchildi_, and _brandibuckeye_ for their awesome reviews. You guys rock!

* * *

_He stood beside her, carefully still and quiet as she and Sam conducted an interview with an elderly woman in this tiny Kansas town that meant so much to her, her family, the world, even. He didn't like that their path had led them back here; Kate was remembering too much, seeing too much as it was. The emotional vulnerability this place exposed in her only made her more sensitive to him and his movements—he'd had to work twice as hard to remain invisible to her since they arrived here._

_It wasn't yet time for her abilities to be awakening like they were, and the last report he'd had to give to his commander had been…less than pleasant. The accusations were beginning to fly already; everything ranging from he hadn't interfered enough to he'd deliberately activated the Guardian too quickly. Personally, his theory was that the attempted demon possession had done it—a development that none of them could have foreseen._

_She was the only one like her in history, after all. Nobody really knew what to expect, if they were honest with themselves._

_But he knew one thing; it was only a matter of time before he could no longer hide from her. His orders remained clear: put off her discovery of the truth for as long as possible, do not reveal himself to her, remain hidden at all costs._

_But there was only so much he could do._

_He studied her as she spoke with the old woman—apparently their old neighbor from before Mary Winchester's death, a sweet soul who had doted upon the young siblings. He almost smiled—almost—at Kate's memory of the old woman's peanut butter cookies, which she had apparently made for the kids on a regular basis, much to Mary's chagrin._

_To this day, Kate measured the quality of a cookie based upon how they compared to Mrs. Canton's._

_He sensed the throb of pain at the fact she could not reveal herself as Kate Winchester to the elderly woman, instead sticking to her false identity as an agent of the government investigating an old murder._

_He shook his head. He would never understand the human propensity to tell falsehoods. Would not the world be a simpler place if they would just be honest with one another?_

_Of course, he realized with some semblance of shame, he himself was not being entirely honest with her either; following her about, hiding, attempting to obscure her memories of him and his kin whenever there was a slip and she saw something._

_He sighed. Thousands of years he'd been a Soldier, and this assignment was certainly the most difficult he'd ever had._

_Tailing young Kate and her brother as they left the woman's house; watching them speak, low and intense, examining everything they had learned in the last hour, something in him tugging at the bond he could see so clearly between the siblings, he realized:_

_Difficult this assignment may be, but he was undeniably glad to have it._

* * *

"Dad?" One word into the voicemail, and John was ready to drop everything and run to his son. He knew that tone in Dean's voice, knew it meant his eldest was barely holding it together, knew his boy needed him.

_Oh Dean. If only I could be there_.

It stung, being faced yet again with his inability to be the parent his kids deserved, broke something deep inside him. But John shoved it down, forcing himself to continue listening to Dean's uncertain, breaking voice on the speaker. "—I'm with Katie and Sam, and we're in Lawrence." John couldn't hold back the sharp intake of breath at that—what were they doing _there_? "There's something in our old house. I don't know if it's the thing that killed Mom or not, and that's not even the worst of it…something is going on with both Sam and Kate. They're…something's not right, Dad, and….I don't know what to do." John blinked furiously at the tears in Dean's voice. "So, whatever you're doing, if you could get here. _Please_, I…I need your help."

_Click_.

John stared at his phone for several minutes, not really seeing it, pondering what Dean had said. The idea that something was haunting their old house hurt a bit, but wasn't really a surprise. He knew for a fact it wasn't the thing that had killed Mary, though; he was hot on the trail of that particular yellow-eyed demon, determined to kill it before it could fulfil its mission to turn Sammy…

Speaking of his youngest son, while it was hardly unexpected to hear that Dean was worried about the boy—Dean's default setting since Sam had split to Stanford had been _Worried_—he was a _little_ surprised to hear that he was working with the older two on a job. Dean had mentioned in another message that Sam's girlfriend had been killed in the same manner as Mary, something that had only stoked a hotter fire inside John to find and kill the monster.

It had been _that close_ to his boy. _That close_ to being able to take him, twist him, make him into whatever it wanted…

He growled. Over his dead body.

He was relieved Sam was with his sister and brother—they could help keep him safe while John hunted the thing that was still trying to destroy their family after twenty-two years.

But something wrong with Kate? That was news, and unwelcome news at that. The girl had been fine when he left her; a bit confused, maybe hurt by his abrupt departure, but okay. He knew she'd been possessed since then—that particular voicemail had left the ex-Marine sitting down, working to control his breathing from the shock and horror—but she'd beaten it (and since when could a person do that, anyway?).

A horrible thought hit John hard; maybe the yellow-eyed demon wasn't after Sam after all? What if it had done the same nonsense to his _daughter_, that's why she was strong enough to out a demon from her own head? It didn't really fit the pattern, but perhaps that was deliberate, to throw him off its scent; to be so focused on Sam that he didn't even see Kate being torn away from him.

_Katie_. His daughter, his pretty girl with her blue eyes and blonde hair, the only bit of softness he allowed in his hard life, though he certainly never told _her_ that. She was tough, as tough as any of them, had to be to survive as a Winchester; but John secretly adored the sweet kisses she still insisted on bestowing on his face when greeting him, the knowing sadness in her eyes when he drank himself into oblivion and she had to put him to bed, her complete devotion to both her brothers.

He saw so much of Mary in her; but somehow, so much more than _just_ Mary. She was her own person, completely, insistently; all stubbornness and tenderness and fiery protectiveness. She was entirely Kate, and she never let him or the boys treat her as anything else.

The idea that the yellow-eyed demon might be after her left him breathless with despair; just as much as it had when he discovered its plans for Sam.

Would his children never be safe?

Doubt niggled hard at John—maybe he should go to them. See for himself what was going on, relieve some of the pressure from Dean's shoulders…even give his oldest a call, assure the boy he was alive and well and working to…

_No_.

He couldn't. It was too dangerous. The thing he was hunting wasn't stupid, and John knew he was being followed, tracked. The closer he was to his kids, the more danger they were in. And if the demons figured out they could use his kids to get to him?

Well, they'd already tried that. It hadn't worked, thank God, but there was no guarantee they'd bypass possession entirely next time and just kill one or more of them.

_Still_. He had to know if Kate was a target too. He could go to Lawrence, but stay away from the kids; observe from the shadows, just to be sure…

John grabbed his duffle.

* * *

Dean sorted through the facts he knew, trying desperately to keep his thoughts focused on the job, and not vague memories of swinging on the monkey bars in the park they'd stopped at for lunch.

_Fact_: Sweet old Mrs. Canton was still alive, living across town now. She'd told Kate and Sam she just couldn't handle the string of odd occurrences that occurred in their old house after they left it. "Too much for an old Christian woman," she'd said.

_Fact_: His dad's old employer reported that John Winchester had gotten into all sorts of 'weird, satanic' stuff after Mary's death, seeing a psychic here in town and reading bizarre occult books. Dean had resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

_Fact_: Dean really hated this job. Too much emotion involved, he was having a hard time keeping it all locked away.

"So Dad saw a psychic?" Sam asked around a mouthful of sandwich. Kate smacked him upside the head, and he made an indignant noise.

"Mouth. Food. Talking. Gross," she answered him, then turned back to Dean. "Do you think it was that black lady that Dad brought around a few times? What was her name? Missy? Mosey?"

"Missouri," Dean said, head jerking up at the sudden memory. "Missouri Moseley."

_He was sitting the nook of the den holding a picture book and pretending Mommy was reading to him. She used to do that, read to him in that little sunlit corner; and it was quiet in the house since Katie and Baby Sammy were napping nearby. Dean didn't have to keep them busy, so he had a rare moment to himself._

_Dean didn't sleep very well since That Night anymore. He was too afraid. Afraid he might wake up and Daddy or Sammy or Katie might have gone away too. Besides, his brain was too loud to sleep most days. He wondered what would happen to them, whether going away had hurt Mommy, whether she still loved him, whether Daddy would ever smile again._

_No, better to stay awake and watch out for the little ones._

_The doorbell rang, and Daddy shuffled to the front to answer it. Dean looked warily over the top of his book as a black lady with kind eyes and springy hair came inside. She and Daddy were talking softly when her gaze met his. Daddy walked away, to get something, Dean guessed; and the nice lady came into the den with a smile. _

_At least Dean hoped she was nice. Daddy said they couldn't trust anyone now, and even though Dean wasn't sure why, he understood the way Daddy said it—like it was real important to remember. So he did. He stood hesitantly and placed himself between the lady and his sleeping siblings, sure Daddy wouldn't let her in the house if she was bad, but deciding it was better to keep her away anyway. _

_Just in case._

"_Hello, child," she smiled as she said, kneeling in the soft carpet so her eyes were at the same level as his. It made him feel much safer—made him feel bigger than he was. "My name is Missouri," she said, a strange look on her face as she reached for him, running her fingertips over his cheek like Mommy used to._

_Dean's eyes stung and got watery when it made him remember._

"_You poor sweet boy," Missouri whispered. "You miss your Mom?"_

_Dean could only nod._

"_You're afraid your sister, brother, and Daddy will go away too? That you have to watch over them now?"_

_A pause, then another nod. How did she know what he was thinking?_

_Missouri drew him into a gentle hug. Dean tried to remember that he wasn't supposed to trust her, but she was so soft and warm, and he'd only had hugs from Katie since That Night—Daddy was always angry or too tired—and she smelled like the cinnamon buns Mommy used to make…Dean wasn't sure how, but he found himself crying into the older lady's soft jacket, clinging to her shirt. She made tender sounds, whispering to him that it was okay to be sad, that he would be all right, that his siblings were lucky to have such a brave big brother watching over them, that his Mommy would be proud of him._

"_Where did she go?" he asked in a voice that was smaller than he wanted it to be. Missouri drew back to look at him. Dean didn't want the hug to stop, but he had to know, so he let her._

"_Your Mom is safe in heaven now, Dean. She loves you, and she'll watch over you forever, where the angels are."_

_But it didn't make sense. Why couldn't she come here? They needed her here!_

_Missouri seemed to know what he was thinking again. "I know, sweetie, it's not her choice. Nobody chooses when they die."_

_Oh. Dean guessed that made sense. His friend Tommy had a grandma that died from being old, and he remembered the teacher telling them that death meant a person's body had been damaged too much for them to go on. Things like fire and falling and being smashed could hurt a person's body so much they couldn't get better._

_So the fire had hurt Mommy. He started to cry again._

"_What's wrong, baby?" Missouri asked, but Dean's heart ached too much to talk anymore. She drew him close again, whispering, "I'm so sorry, child. I'm sorry this happened to you."_

_She held him for another minute before Daddy's voice came from the doorway. "Missouri. This way, please. Dean, you should lay down, son. You need your rest too."_

_Missouri held him at arm's length, smiling again. "I'm gonna help your Daddy find out what took your Mommy away and make sure your family is safe, okay? You can sleep now, baby."_

_Dean nodded and watched the adults leave. Suddenly really sleepy, he dragged his nap mat over where Katie was stretched out, her tiny hand on Baby Sammy's back. He dropped the mat next to Sammy so the baby was between him and Katie, kept his eyes open long enough to draw a thin blanket over himself._

_And Dean slept._

"I remember her, a little, she was—" Kate was saying.

"Yes," Dean interrupted. "Missouri can help us. Come on."

* * *

_Endnote: Anyone want to hazard a guess as to who our mysterious stalker is? What'd y'all think of Missouri? _


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Kate!

A/N: Happy Friday, all! Things are heating up; and next chapter will have some serious badassery going on! Thanks to _Thegirlwhowaited24601_, _brandibuckeye_, and _What You See In The Shadows_ for their reviews and guesses—got a couple good theories on who our mystery being is! All will be revealed soon!

Enjoy!

* * *

The rest of that afternoon was spent making plans—taking Missouri to the house to get a read on it and putting together their play. Dean kept a close eye on his younger siblings, watching closely for any more weirdness on either of their parts; luckily, things seemed to have calmed down for the day.

Dean was grateful. This job was hard enough without more crap to worry about.

"Sam, you and Missouri take the basement. Kate, you're the top floor, I'm the main. Don't worry about punching holes in the walls; Jenny will be happier that all the nonsense around here stops." Dean paused as Missouri handed out the small homemade hex bags to everyone, the combination of herbs and various oddities intended to cleanse the house of spirits when placed in strategic positions in the walls. Personally, Dean was skeptical of the success they'd have with mere herbs—he was much more sold on a regular salt-and-burn, of course—but poltergeists weren't ghosts and required different…_treatment_.

And Missouri knew what she was about, Dean remembered, so he was going with it.

Kate sighed softly from beside him as Missouri and Sam shooed Jenny and her two kids out the door, assuring them the problem would be solved by the time they got back from the movies.

"I don't like this," she remarked, offhandedly, as though it didn't really matter much.

Which, Dean supposed, it didn't.

But he'd thought this through pretty thoroughly, as he did anytime he was going to have to send his younger siblings off into danger separate from him. Both Kate and Sam were well-qualified to take on the top floor themselves; but Missouri needed someone more skilled in Hunting to protect her—and in _this_ house? It was a bit much to ask Dean to send Sammy off alone anywhere. He was trying not to coddle the kid or be a complete Mother Hen about it, but all he could see every time he turned around the last twenty-four hours was a tiny bundle of wailing blue blankets, nearly overbalancing him as he struggled down the stairs on short legs as fast as he dared.

Yeah, he wanted someone with Sam at all times.

Which left Katie to take the upstairs. Not that she minded, she'd likely have insisted and tossed that Look at him had he not come to the same conclusion first—the one that combined the best of Sammy's bitch face and John's Drill Sergeant face, the one that made you feel like not only were you in deep crap, you were being judged for it.

He hated the Look, mostly when it was directed at him. Which wasn't often, but it had been known to happen once in a while.

Dean squeezed her shoulder. "Me neither." He sighed and twirled his hammer in skilled hands. "All right, the quicker we split up, the quicker we get this over with. Let's go."

Sam and Missouri turned, opening the basement door and heading down. Dean was proud to see his little brother place himself before the older woman, holding his weapon ready to fire as he descended the stairs slowly. Kate took a deep breath, then mustered a smile and wink for Dean as she turned and dashed up the stairs seemingly less carefully—though Dean knew it wasn't a lack of caution so much as Kate's determination to never do the expected thing. She had this odd habit of putting herself in their enemies' shoes—Dean blamed her years of chess—and he could practically hear her explanation:

"_If I were the poltergeist, I'd expect me to walk up those stairs all slow and careful, and I'd kill me on the way up. I'm not gonna give it a chance to do that."_

He nodded once in approval before turning and starting toward the dining room, hammering a quick hole in the plaster wall and shoving the first of the bags inside it.

The lights flickered, and Dean smirked.

_Show time, you son of a bitch._

* * *

Kate darted into Sam's old nursery, refusing to let the emotional impact of the room overtake her again—visiting with Missouri earlier that day had left Kate trembling with suppressed emotion—and punched a hole in the north wall, stuffing the bag inside and bolting from the room before anything weird could happen.

She made it through the East wall—the Master bedroom—with no fuss at all, but at the West wall—a linen closet—the poltergeist finally seemed to catch up. The door slammed hard, knocking Kate into the closet and against the wall she had just stuffed the bag into. One of the wire hangers shot toward her face, unbent so the sharp edge was poised to stab her through the eye. Kate ducked with an involuntary cry and threw herself against the door.

It didn't budge.

"Oh come on!" she growled, yelping when the hanger buried itself, pointy end first, in the meat of her left shoulder. Kate yanked it out, none too gently, and threw it to the ground, standing on it like she might a highly dangerous snake. Noting the other hangers in the closet uncoiling themselves, she slammed her crowbar into the door frame and pulled as hard as she could. It took a few (_long_) seconds, but finally the handle gave; Kate threw herself into the hall, pushing the door shut with her feet just as six metal wires buried themselves in the wood that now occupied the space her body had just moments earlier.

_Damn that was close._

Kate didn't stop to catch her breath, knowing the spirit would notice her next move almost instantly. She stumbled to her feet and sprinted into the back bedroom—her last stop—and swung her crowbar into the wall. It made a decent-sized hole, but not quite big enough. She drew back for another blow, took a deep breath…

And fell back as something wrapped tight around her neck, yanking her to the dusty carpet.

Kate fought hard, pulling at the cord—it was an electrical cord of some sort, it felt like—and kicking uselessly as she tried not to panic.

_Hex bag, get the hex bag into the wall…_

Kate thanked every deity should could think of that she'd gotten a deep lungful of air before being strangled as she forced herself to relax. Thanks to Dad's training and her own love of swimming, she could hold her breath for over a minute while exerting herself.

Hopefully everyone would have their bags in place by then, otherwise she was _so_ screwed.

But it wasn't quite that simple, she soon realized as she lurched forward, this time holding her breath deliberately, toward the wall. The cord yanked back again, and Kate's abs contracted painfully at the attempt to hold herself up. Her chest tightened with suppressed panic again, so she turned her body, bracing her feet against the carpet and using her thigh muscles instead to push herself backward. The plus side to that was that it also put the pressure from the cord on the back of her neck instead of the front.

Kate scrabbled behind her for the hex bag, finally feeling her fingers close around the soft brown felt tied with a leather thong. She held it tight and ran her shaking hand along the wall, looking for the hole her crowbar had already created in the plaster.

The cord tightened again, cutting into her skin sharply; she could feel the telltale slipperiness on the back of her neck that told her the cord was drawing blood as she fought it.

The need for oxygen was becoming desperate, and she still hadn't found the hole in the wall…

Blackness began to gather at the edges of her vision, which was why Kate found it difficult to believe what her eyes told her when she forced them to focus and saw, right in front of her, a shining figure of blue light. It was blinding, and held high a long silver dagger unlike anything she'd ever seen.

_Funny_, she thought detachedly_. Always thought poltergeists would be…uglier._

Ringing filled her ears, and her eyes were just dropping closed when the Light Figure vanished, revealing the towering form of her oldest brother, green eyes wide as he shouted something she couldn't hear.

_Oh hi, Dean._

Kate let her eyes drift shut, unable to fight anymore. Vaguely, she registered a flash of heat, the cord loosening around her throat, someone's hands pulling her upright, but it was all faraway and hazy.

There was warmth, though, she could recognize that, and wondered when she had gotten so cold. Instinctively, she turned toward the heat, burrowing into something soft and cottony…

Flannel, she realized. Not just flannel, but a heartbeat—too fast for comfort—and rumbling vibrations against her forehead. Slowly, the ringing in her ears receded enough to let through words—the source of the vibration.

"Come on, Katie, wake up. It's over now, I'm here, you're going to be okay. Come on, sweetheart…"

_Dean_.

Dean was terrified, the realization punched through her barely-aware mind, and she fought her way toward consciousness in response.

Her brother was afraid; she needed to respond, _now_.

"D'n?" she managed to force a mumbled approximation of his name through numb lips, and he squeezed her tighter in response. "It's okay," he whispered, more to himself now than her, though she fought to speak again.

_Ow_.

"D'n…_hurts_…"

"I know," he answered, trying to pull back. Kate held tighter, unwilling to give up the heat radiating from his chest. "Come on, Kate, you gotta let me look. We might have to go to the hospital…"

"'M f'ne…" she managed, though she wondered if Dean was right. It was unfortunately not the first time she'd been strangled; and she remembered the bruises, the pain involved in swallowing and speaking for days afterward, the annoyance of wearing scarves and turtlenecks in the aftermath…

_Lame-ass poltergeist._

She winced at Dean's gentle fingers on her damaged throat, whimpered when he brushed her hair back and exposed the bloody and chafed skin at the back of her neck.

"Shit, Katie," he whispered. "Can you breathe okay?"

She nodded. "Speak?" he asked. She nodded again. "A little…"

"All right," he sounded relieved. "Just take it easy. Are you nauseated, dizzy, sick?"

God, she hated the triaging part of injury treatment. "No. Jus' hurts."

"Okay. Come on then." Dean pulled her to her feet, holding her tightly against him. "Let's get you downstairs and—"

"Dean! Kate?" Sam's bellow came up the stairs bare seconds before he did, thundering into the hall in a mild panic. "God, you guys, thought the worst there for a second—what happened?"

Kate gestured vaguely to her throat and forced a smile. "'stension cords make bad neckl'ces."

Her brothers didn't think it was funny. Kate stuck her tongue out.

* * *

Something wasn't right. Sam wasn't sure what it was, but the house still felt….dark.

"Are you sure this is over?" he asked no one in particular as the Winchesters and Missouri left Jenny standing in her doorway with her kids.

"I'm sure," Missouri answered certainly, though she tossed him an interested look. "Why do you ask?"

He hesitated. "It's nothing, I guess—"

"Sam's right," Kate spoke up hoarsely. "We should hang out long enough to make sure everything's okay."

Missouri cocked her head, but Dean just sighed. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously," Sam answered, bestowing his best bitch face on Dean in response to the oldest Winchester's attitude. "Just for a little while, just to be sure it's over, Dean; we owe these people that much."

"Kate almost died in there, and you didn't even get off without any injuries!" Dean gestured to Sam's sprained wrist, won when the spirit had yanked the shotgun from his hands viciously. "We don't _owe_ them any more than we already—"

"Shhhhhh!" Kate hissed the sound as loudly as she could, since she couldn't shout. "Please, Dean," she faced her oldest brother, stepping between him and Sam to try and focus him. "Just a few hours. Sam's right, something's not quite…_finished_. No offense, Missouri."

The older lady nodded her head once, an incline of respect. "None taken. You kids are the hunters, and you're connected to that house in a way I never will be. If you think something's still in there, by all means, follow your instincts. I'm going to head home, you call me before you leave town, hear?"

"Yes ma'am," Kate answered for all of them, stepping forward and folding the psychic into a hug. "Thanks for your help."

Sam smiled when she stood before him, arms outstretched. "Missouri," he murmured as he embraced her. "Thank you for being there for them when everything first happened." She patted his cheek when she pulled back. "It was my pleasure, baby," she answered. "You take care of those siblings of yours, hear?"

He nodded and smiled, watched her drive away, then joined Dean and Kate in the Impala. His sister had claimed the backseat, leaning against the window and stretched out over the seat, rubbing at the bandages on her neck. Dean was hunkered in the front seat, twisted to face her and growling, "stop that," when Sam shut the door. He settled in time to see her pull a face, and turned around to back up his brother.

"He's right," Sam reached back and grabbed her hand. "Leave it be."

"'S itchy," Kate croaked.

"It's going to be worse if you mess around with it," Sam rolled his eyes. Kate was a picky patient when sick or injured, petulant and clingy and prone to snapping at things that were normally not temper-worthy; so Sam squeezed her fingers, hoping the clinginess would win out over the snark.

It did; she squeezed back and sighed before letting go.

Sam hid a grin as he turned to watch the house, ignoring Dean's eye roll.

Now to wait.


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Kate!

A/N: Good morning, everyone! I'm so excited to share this chapter with you, I won't waste tons of time yakking at you. But first, huge thanks to _brandibuckeye, What You See In The Shadows, lucifers-my-bae_, and _KungFuSchildi_ for their awesome reviews. Y'all rock!

Also, if you're so inclined, I posted a tag to 10x03 called I Once Was Lost, But Now Am Found. It was intended as a one shot, but there's a second piece percolating in my head, so I may extend it a bit. Check it out if you'd like some brother comfort!

Should be updating Come Whatever as well, in the next few days—the next chapter will head back to when the kids were little and explore how Dean became such a great caretaker of sick siblings. It promises to be delightfully fluffy and sweet!

* * *

He cursed to himself, silently, standing guard outside the Impala. His charge was half asleep now, recovering quickly from the strangulation she'd suffered barely two hours prior—he hadn't expected her power to manifest this way, in accelerated healing, but it was going to cause him endless trouble, he could tell already.

Everything was happening too quickly.

He wouldn't be able to keep her ignorant of his existence much longer, it was becoming obvious. And when _she_ knew, her brothers would know, and _that_ could not be allowed.

Of course, if he could convince her to keep quiet about it…

He'd been watching this family for just over twenty years, he knew they were perfectly capable of keeping secrets from one another. John, for instance, was right this moment withholding information about his youngest son; the kind of information that would shake the boy to his foundations, the kind of information his older siblings would need in order to properly protect him like they wished to…

The kind of information he could _give_ Kate, were he to reveal himself.

The girl was a strategist; if she understood the entire situation, the need for secrecy, he was confident she would be better equipped to fulfil her role in it.

On the other hand, his orders remained clear; she was to be kept in ignorance for at least a few more years.

But his superiors did not know Kate as he did; in which case, it was his duty to inform them of the situation, the possibility that the Guardian knowing everything could _actually_ work in their favor…

His attention snapped back to the present, where all three siblings were rushing out of the Impala, Kate all but forgetting that she'd been injured earlier; running toward the house at full tilt, several steps in front of both her brothers.

"No!" he heard Dean shout. "Katie, stay, you're hurt!"

She didn't respond; didn't even slow until she reached the door, pulling out her lock pick and getting it open inside of ten seconds flat. The oldest Winchester growled as he dashed through, "Stupid, _stupid_…"

Oh, this might be bad—but then, it also might be very, _very_ good. He could sense the spirits inside this house; one a great evil, the other a force of beauty and fierce protection. Which would prove victorious was uncertain, of course, but…

Orders were orders.

He stood back.

* * *

"I've got Jenny, you two get the kids!" Dean shouted over the roar of the poltergeist that was currently treating the house like some sort of warzone. Kate pushed Sam forward just as a lamp whizzed by where his head had been mere moments before. Dean cocked a brow at both of them, a silent warning to be _careful_, dammit, and then he turned and ran up the stairs.

Kate took a deep breath and followed. "You get Sari!" she shouted over her shoulder, knowing Sam would comply, and thundered down the hall behind Dean. Her older brother pounded on the door to the master bedroom, shouting for the young mother, and Kate didn't even pause, heading for the smaller room next door.

She burst in gracelessly, heart thumping painfully when she saw the tiny bed was empty.

"Ritchie!" she screamed, and the boy's tousled head appeared from beside the dresser nearby. He whimpered, and she scooped him up gently; cradling him close and burying his face in her shoulder as the nightlight beside her leg zapped with a burst of electricity.

"It's all right, sweetie, just hold on for a second."

Kate dashed out of the room. Jenny's door was busted open and Dean was nowhere to be seen—she heard them downstairs, shouting and running—saw Sam approaching, the little girl holding him tightly. They ran down the stairs together, and Sam stopped at the bottom. Kate turned, confused, and he shoved Sari at her.

"Go!"

"What?" she barely had time to get the question out of her mouth before Sam was grabbed by an invisible force and bodily thrown backward.

_Oh shit._

"Sari, take your brother outside as fast as you can!" she thrust the toddler at his sister and nudged her toward the open door, beyond which they could both see Jenny and Dean watching the house with something akin to terror on their faces.

It was a good thing, too. "Mommy!" Sari shouted, then ran, holding tight to Ritchie. Kate saw her make it over the threshold, then turned to find her own little brother. A slam behind her made her jump, and she whirled to see the front door had closed—and likely locked—of its own accord.

Kate snorted and narrowed her eyes, turning back toward where she'd last seen Sam.

"Fine, you bastard," she growled. "Bring it on."

Dashing into the kitchen, Kate spotted Sam—he was slumped against the cabinet, limbs askew and eyes closed, blood trickling down from his hairline. She ran to him, panic gripping her chest as it always did when she saw him in such a state.

"Come on, Sammy," she went to her knees beside him and slapped his cheek firmly. God, it was a wonder any of them had working brain cells left after all the head wounds they'd suffered; she checked Sam's scalp—very little blood, a small knot forming under her fingers…

Kate crashed into Sam's chest as something big and blunt hit her from behind, momentarily darkening her vision.

_Oh yeah, the poltergeist is here too. Son of a bitch._

Kate let herself slump against Sam, letting the spirit assume its attack had accomplished something while she took a few seconds to think up a plan. Distantly, she could hear pounding against the front door, Dean's voice barely audible over all the banging furniture and howling wind.

After a moment, the number of objects flying around settled a bit, the wind cut down, and Kate felt the temperature in the room drop to uncomfortable levels in a matter of seconds.

_Showtime._

She jumped to her feet and whirled to face the spirit, iron rod ready in hand, but she never used it. The poltergeist, which had obviously thought both its victims were done putting up a fight, roared its fury, the sound absolutely deafening.

Kate had the vague impression of several sharp objects zooming toward them and on instinct, shoved a hand in front of her as if she could toss up a brick wall solely with her mind.

_What the—?_

Her fingers tingled as heat filled her palm. Light radiated from her skin; the knives and shards of glass stopped in midair eight inches from touching her _or_ Sam, like they'd stuck fast in some sort of force field.

_Oh God, this definitely qualifies as weird._

The spirit seemed as shocked as she was, its ugly face twisted in rage but unmoving. No more knives headed their way, no more wind. Just eerie, stunned silence broken only by the sound of fracturing wood as Dean took what sounded like an axe to the front door.

Behind Kate, Sam gasped a breath she recognized—her little brother was coming to.

_Shit shit shit—_

She couldn't let her brothers see this…this…freaky crap! It was terrifying enough without becoming an outcast in her own family…

"K't?" Sam slurred behind her.

_Please, not yet, Sam, just stay down…_

The spirit grinned, sensing her reticence, and opened its mouth. Several things happened at once then: Kate shut her eyes and turned, letting go of the warm light that had been pooling in her palm and throwing herself on top of a weakly stirring Sam, hoping to shield him from whatever the spirit decided to hurl at them next. The knives clattered to the ground just as the front door slammed open and Dean bellowed her name from down the hallway. Kate shut her eyes tight, preparing for the worst—

And nothing happened.

After a split second, she looked up and nearly choked on her own heart. She felt Sam stiffen beneath her, which told her she wasn't the only one who saw it.

The next instant, a gun poked its way around the corner, trained right on—

"Dean, no!" Sam shouted, trying to struggle to his feet. Kate jerked away, trying to help him stand while refusing to take her eyes off the sight before her.

"Mom?" she breathed, afraid to look away, to move, god, to even _blink_…

The poltergeist was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Mary Winchester's ghost smiled at her three children, who were all staring at her in varying degrees of shock. She walked gracefully toward her oldest, and Kate thought her heart might break from the expression on Dean's face—it was desperate, _hungry_ even. "Dean," Mom murmured, and his green eyes filled with tears at the sound of her voice. She lingered for only a moment before moving to Kate, who kept Sam close just in case her instincts, which screamed this was _really_ her mother's spirit, not some trick, were wrong.

"Hi Bug," she murmured, and Kate huffed a shaky laugh at the old nickname, which made Mom's smile widen.

Finally, she turned to Sammy, and for the first time, her expression clouded. "Sammy," she said, and her voice held such despair that Kate felt a punch of fear. "I'm sorry."

Sam looked heartbroken and confused. "For what?"

But their time was up. Mom backed up, looking toward the ceiling, speaking to the poltergeist now. "And _you_. Get out of my house. And stay away from my children."

Flames engulfed her as conflicting roars filled the air, making Kate's eyes water. "Mom!" She reached out, and Mary's blue eyes met hers once more, sorrow and pride warring for dominance. Kate gasped back a sob, her chest tight.

_Don't go._

_Please._

But it was too late. Mary—and the poltergeist—were both gone in a rush of wind. Silence filled the room in the aftermath, broken furniture shifting and broken siblings leaning quietly on one another.

Sam slumped against the counter. "_Now_ it's over," he murmured, his voice wrecked.

Kate and Dean just nodded.

* * *

John watched from behind the cheesy beaded curtain, hidden in the shadow of the doorway, as his three children related the previous night's tale to Missouri.

"And then I tried to shield Sammy," Kate was saying. "And the second spirit showed up, and it was…it was…" She couldn't actually force the words out, looking to her older brother helplessly.

"Our _Mom_," Dean provided quietly. "It was our Mom's ghost, Missouri, and she took out the poltergeist. Has she been stuck there this entire time?"

"Yeah, and what's happened to her now?" Sam asked.

"Oh, kids, I really don't know the answer to that," the psychic said, seeming regretful that she couldn't give them the answer they were looking for. "I just don't know."

Three near-identical sighs issued from his children, and John's lips quirked upward in a smile.

God, he'd _missed_ them.

Their assertion that it had been Mary's spirit that had saved them, and that she was gone now, filled John with some emotion he really couldn't name. Part regret, maybe; part relief, part heartbreak.

He wondered vaguely what she would think if she could see him now, hiding from his own kids.

Clenching his jaw, he reminded himself why he was here:

To check on his two youngest, to make sure that Kate wasn't the yellow-eyed demon's real target, that he wasn't chasing a false trail. _Not_ to coddle them or give into his own instinct to protect, to shelter, to save. His kids were strong, stronger than he'd ever imagined they'd be, they were safe and healthy and together—and better off without him, at least until he destroyed this demon, the first and greatest threat his family had ever faced.

His daughter certainly _looked_ well enough. Missouri had exaggerated about the strangulation apparently, Kate was barely bruised, at least from what he could see. She was fit, blue eyes bright as ever, good color…

Of course, John knew better than anyone those things meant little, at least in this case. What he was looking for was…less tangible.

Like the fact that his daughter was hiding something. She was quite the little liar—had honed the skill as a child, on _him_, no less, often blowing off his orders completely and pretending she hadn't; unlike Sam, who had always disobeyed flagrantly. Hers was a skill John never put any effort into stifling, knowing she'd need it as an adult, in their line of work—and he'd been right. If there was lying to be done, Kate was the best at it, her innocent face and sweet smile throwing off the hardest of baddies; the humans because they were fooled by the good-girl act, the monsters because they couldn't believe anyone so soft could be a threat. He couldn't count how many times Kate's ability to lie had saved one of them.

But he _was_ her father, and while he couldn't always tell when she was being dishonest, it was pretty obvious in the set of her shoulders right now, the way she glossed over the space of time when Sam had been unconscious—though no one else seemed to notice it—in her telling of the story, the odd looks Dean kept tossing her way.

He knew something was up, too. John felt the warmth of pride bloom in his chest and shoved it down.

Dean was smarter than he let on.

They were leaving now, embracing Missouri, and having her promise to call if she saw their dad — John didn't even have to be psychic to feel her simmering anger directed his way as she promised.

And then they were gone.

Missouri came back into the room, sighing. "John Winchester, I could just slap you," she said, and he took that as his cue. He slipped out from the shadows and sat on the couch, smiling briefly at the faint scent of Kate's shampoo that lingered. "Why won't you go see your children?"

"I can't," he answered, meeting Missouri's eyes and letting her see how much it hurt him. "It's not safe. Not until I know the truth."

The older woman nodded. "About Sam?"

John nodded. "And Kate. Dean seems to think something's going on with them both."

"They both are very powerful," Missouri agreed, filling her tea kettle with water and placing it on the eye of the stove. "But neither of them understand how or why."

His jaw clenched. _Both_ of them? How was it possible?

"I know about Sam, but…Kate too?"

Missouri shook her head. "Her power is different. I've never seen anything like either of them, but…they're not the same, John. Something…_else_ changed your daughter, and since the last time I saw them. She didn't possess this latent power just after Mary's death when we met."

Well that wasn't at all comforting.

"Is she dangerous?" he asked. "Like Sam?"

Missouri clenched her jaw. "They're not _dangerous_, John, they're your _children_." She took a breath, deflated a little. "But she could be, yes. So could he."

John blinked furiously, looking down to try and recover his composure. That was two kids, now, out of three, whose paths were uncertain. His _kids_, the little ones he'd left Dean to raise but never stopped loving fiercely, the ones he'd done his best to prepare for whatever the world threw their way…

But he'd _never_ imagined they may have to defend themselves from each other.

"What do I do?" he asked, tightly, a painful twisting in his chest that he recognized as a sob.

He swallowed it down, looked up at Missouri, who was holding a cup of tea and looking stricken.

"I don't know," she admitted.


End file.
